EDITION NUNC COGNOSCO EX PARTE TRENT UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation https://archive.org/details/leilaorsiegeofgrOOOOIytt LEILA ; OR, THE SIEGE OF GRANADA. Frontispiece Leila OR THE SIEGE OF GRANADA; Calderon the Courtier AND THE Pilgrims of the Rhine. THE RIGHT PION. LORD LYTTON LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE NEW YORK ; 416 BROOME STREET 1875 LONDON : bP.AlDURY, AG NEW, & CO., PllINTEItS, WHITI.FUIA U3. TO THE EIGHT HONOURABLE THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON, Kale is £lebicateb BY ONE WHO WISHES HE COULD HAVE POUND A MORE DURABLE MONUMENT WHEREON TO ENGRAVE A MEMORIAL OP REAL FRIENDSHIP. 132174 PREFACE TO THE PRESENT EDITION OF LEILA AND CALDERON. — * — These two Romances were originally published in an expensive form, with pictorial illustrations ; and perhaps from tho prejudice generally conceived against the literature of works that are supposed to rest some of their attractions on tho skill of tlio engraver, as avcII as from any demerits of their own, they have been hitherto less popularly known than other prose fictions by tho same Author. It is true, however, that in delineation of character and elaboration of plot, tho “ Siege of Granada” is inferior to the Author’s other Historical Romances — but there aro portions of the conception — as connected with tho position of Almamen between Moor and Christian — and detached scenes and descriptions — which tho writer’s more matured experience would bo unable to improve. Tho story of “ Calderon,” though slight and briefly told, belongs to a higher grado of passion and art than its com¬ panion : and tho Author once thought of converting it into a tragedy. 41-.S. CONTENTS LEILA. BOOK i. - rAGE CHAPTER I. The Enchanter and the ’Warrior . 17 CHAPTER II. The King within his Talace . 20 CHAPTER III. The Lovers . 28 CHAPTER IV. The Father and Daughter . 31 CHAPTER V. Ambition Distorted into Vice by Law . 34 CHAPTER VI. The Lion in the Net . 40 BOOK II. CHAPTER I. The Royal Tent of Spain. — The King and the Dominican. — The Visitor and the Hostage . 43 CHAPTER II. The Ambush, the Strife, and the Capture . .51 CHAPTER III. The Hero in the Dower of the Dreamer 61 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. A Fuller View of the Character of Boabdil.— Muza in the Gardens of his ^ Beloved . gg CHAPTER V. Boabdil’s Reconciliation ■with his People . 72 CHAPTER VI. Reila.—Her New Lover— Portrait of the First Inquisitor of Spain.— The Chalice Returned to the Lips of Almamen . . . . . . 7V CHAPTER VII. The Tribunal and the Miracle . 81 BOOK III. CHAPTER I. Isabel and the Jewish Maiden . 86 CHAPTER II. The Temptation of the Jewess. — In which the History passes from the Outward to tho Internal . 89 CHAPTER III. Tho Hour and the Man . ns BOOK IV. CHAPTER I. Leila in the Castle.— The Siege . . CHAPTER II. Hmamcn's Proposed Enterprise.— The Three Israelites.— Circumstance Impresses each Character with a Varying Hie . 101 -CHAPTER III. The Fugitivo and the Meeting . . CHAPTER IV. Almamen hears and sees, but refuses to believe ; for the brain, ovorwrou -lit grows dull, even in the keenest . . 0 ’ — CHAPTER V. In the ferment of great events the dregs arise . . 116 CONTENTS, XI CHAPTER VI. PAGE Boabdil’s Return. — The Reappearance of Ferdinand before Granada . . 121 CHAPTER VII. The Conflagration. — The Majesty of an Individual Passion in the midst of Hostile Thousands . 123 BOOK V. CHAPTER I. The Great BatGe , . . 127 CHAPTER II. The Novice . 136 CHAPTER III, The Pause between Defeat and Surrender . . 142 CHAPTER IV. The Adventure of the Solitary Horseman . 148 CHAPTER V. The Sacrifice . 153 CHAPTER AH. The Return.— The Riot. — The Treachery. — And the Death . . . 157 CHAPTER VII. The End . 164 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. CHAPTER I. The Antechamber . .171 CHAPTER II. The Lover and the Confidant . . . . . 178 CHAPTER III. A Rival . 181 XU CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. PAGE Civil Ambition, and Ecclesiastical . 185 CHAPTER V. Tho Truo Fata Morgana . 188 CHAPTER VI. Web upon Web . 192 CHAPTER VII. Tho Opon Countenance, tho Concealed Thoughts . 196 CHAPTER VIII. The Escape . 199 CHAPTER IX. Tho Counterplot . 209 CHAPTER X. We Heap what wo Sow . 2'4 CHAPTER XI. Howsoever the Rivers Wind, the Ocean Receives them All . . . 216 THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE. Poems on tho Ideal World . . 231 CHAPTER I. In wldoh tho Reader is introduced to Queen Nymphalin .... 213 CHAPTER II. The Lovers . 217 CHAPTER III. Feelings . 251 CHAPTER IV. The Maid of Mali lies ........... 254 CONTENTS. Xlll CHAPTER V. TAOE Rotterdam.— The Character of the Dutch.— Their Resemblance to the Germans. — A Dispute between Vane and Trevylyan, after the manner of the Ancient Novelists, as to whicli is preferable, the Life of Action or the Life of Repose. — Trevylyan's Contrast between Literary Ambition and tho Ambition of Public Life . 279 CHAPTER VI. Gorcum. — Tho Tour of tho Virtues : a Philosopher’s Tale . . . . 286 CHAPTER VII. Cologne. — Tho Traces of the Roman Yoke. — Tho Church of St. Maria. — Trevylyan’s Reflections on the Monastic Life. — The Tomb of the Throe Kings. — An Evening Excursion on tho Rhine .... 295 CHAPTER VIII. Tho Soul in Purgatory ; or, Lovo Stronger than Death . 298 CHAPTER IX. Tho Scenery of the Rhino analogous to tho German Literary Genius. — Tho Drachonfols . 302 CHAPTER X. Tho Legond of Roland. — Tho Adventures of Nymphalin on the Island of Nouuowerth. — Her Song. — Tho Decay of the Fairy-Faith in England 30 1 CHAPTER XI. Wherein tho Reader is made Spectator with tho English Fairies of the Scenes and Beings that aro Boncath tho Earth . 309 CHAPTER XII. The Wooing of Master Fox . CHAPTER XIII. The Tomb of a Father of Many Children • • 332 CHAPTER XIV. The Fairy’s Cave, and tho Fairy’s Wish . . 333 CHAPTER XV. Tho Ranks of tho Rhine. — From the Draehenfelfl to Brohl : an Incident that suffices in this Tale for an epoch ....... 331 CHAPTER XVI. Gertrude.— The Excursion to Ilammerstein. — Thoughts . 33S XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVII. Letter from Trcvylyan to**** . . CHAPTER XVIII. Cobleutz. — Excursion to the Mountains of Taunus; Roman Tower in the Valley of Ehrenbreitstein. — Travel, its Pleasures Estimated Diffe¬ rently by the Young and the Old.— The Student of Heidelberg : hia Criticisms on German Literature ...... CHAPTER XIX. The Fallen Star; or, the History of a False Religion . CHAPTER XX. Gelnhausen.— The Power of Love in Sanctified Places. — A Portrait of Frederick Barbarossa. — The Ambition of Men finds no adequate Sympathy in Women . CHAPTER XXL View of Ehrenbreitstein.— A New Alarm in Gertrude’s Health.— Trarbach CHAPTER XXII. The Doublo Life.— Trevylyan’s Fate.— Sorrow the Parent of Fame.— Niederlahnstein. — Dreams . CHAPTER XXIII. The Life of Dreams . CHAPTER XXIV. The Brothers . CHAPTER XXV. The Immortality of the Soul.— A Common Incident not before described. — Trevylyan and Gertrude . CHAPTER XXVI. In which the Reader will learn how the Fairies were received by the Sovereigns of the Mines. The Complaint of the Last of the Fauns. — The lied Huntsman. — The Storm. — Death . CHAPTER XXVII. Thurmberg. — A Storm upon the Rhine. — The Ruins of Rlicinfels. — Peril Unfelt by Love. — The Echo of tho Lurlei-berg. — St. Goar. — Caub, Gutenfels, and Pfalzgrafenstein. — A certain Vastness of Mind in the First.Hefmits. — The Scenery of the Rhine to Bacharach . PAGE 310 312 345 374 3J6 377 380 385 403 409 416 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER XXVIII. PAGE The Voyage to Bingen. — The Simple Incidents in tliis Tale Excused. — The Situation and Character of Gertrude. — The Conversation of the Lovers in the Temple. — A Fact Contradicted. — Thoughts occasioned by a Madhouse amongst the most Beautiful Landscapes of the Ithine . 419 CHAPTER XXIX. Ellfold. — Mayence. — Heidelberg. — A Conversation between Vaue and the German Student. — The Ruins of the Castle of Heidelberg and its Solitary Habitant . 424 CHAPTER XXX. No Part of the Earth really Solitary. — The Song of the Fairies. — The Sacred Spot. — The Witch of tho Evil Winds. — The Spell and the Duty of the Fairies . 429 CHAPTER XXXI. Gertrude and Trevylyan, when the former is Awakened to the Approach of Death . 432 CHAPTER XXXII. A Spot to be Buried in . 434 CHAPTER THE LAST. The Conclusion of tills Tale . 43G * . LEILA: OR, THE SIEGE OF GRANADA. BOOK I. CHAPTER I. THE ENCHANTER AND THE WARRIOR. It was the summer of the year 1491, and the armies of Ferdinand and Isabel invested the city of Granada. The night was not far advanced ; and the moon, which broke through the transparent air of Andalusia, shone calmly over the immense and murmuring encampment of the Spanish foe, and touched with a hazy light the snow-capped summits of the Sierra Nevada, contrasting the verdure and luxuriance which no devastation of man could utterly sweep from the beautiful vale below. In the streets of the Moorish city many a group still lin¬ gered. Some, as if unconscious of the beleaguring war without, were listening in quiet indolence to the strings of the Moorish lute, or the lively tale of an Arabian improvvi- satore ; others were conversing with such eager and animated gestures, as no ordinary excitement could wring from the stately calm habitual to every oriental people. But the more public places, in which gathered these different groups, only the more impressively heightened the desolate and solemn repose that brooded over the rest of the city. At this time, a man, with downcast eyes, and arms folded within the sweeping gown which descended to his feet, was seen passing through the streets, alone, and apparently unob¬ servant of all around him. Yet this indifference was by no 18 LEILA. means shared by the straggling crowds through which, from time to time, lie musingly swept. “ God is great ! ” said one man; “it is the Enchanter Al- mamen.” “ He hath locked up the manhood of Boabdil el Chico with the key of his spells,” quoth another, stroking his beard; “ I would curse him, if I dared.” “ But they say that he hath promised that when man fails, the genii will fight for Granada,” observed a third, doubt- ingly. “ Allah Akbar ! what is, is ! what shall be, shall be !” said a fourth, with all the solemn sagacity of a prophet. Whatever their feelings, whether of awe or execration, terror or hope, each group gave way as Almamen passed, and hushed the murmurs not intended for his ear. Passing through the Zacatin (the street which traversed the Great Bazaar), the reputed enchanter ascended a narrow and wind¬ ing street, and arrived at last before the walls that encircled the palaco and fortress of the Alhambra. The sentry at the gate sainted and admitted him in silence ; and in a few moments his form was lost in the solitude of groves, amidst which at frequent openings, the spray of Arabian fountains glittered in the moonlight ; while, above, rose the castled heights of the Alliambra ; and on the right, those Vermilion To-wers, whose origin veils itself in the furthest ages of Phoenician enterprise. Almamen paused, and surveyed the scene. “ Was Aden more lovely ? ” he muttered ; and shall so fair a spot be trodden by the victor Nazarene ? What matters ? creed chases creed — race, race — until time comes back to its starting-place, and beholds the reign restored to the eldest faith and the eldest tribe. The horn of our strength shall be exalted.” At these thoughts the seer relapsed into silence, and gazed long and intently upon the stars, as, more numerous and brilliant with every step of the advancing night, their, rays broke on the playful waters, and tinged with silver the various and breathless foliage. So earnest was his gaze, and so ab¬ sorbed his thoughts, that he did not perceive the approach of a Moor, whose glittering weapons and snow-white turban, rich with emeralds, cast a gleam through the wood. The new comer was above the common size of his race, generally small and spare, but without attaining the lofty stature and large proportions of the more redoubted of the warriors of Spain. But in his presence and mien there was LEILA. 19 something, which, in the haughtiest conclave of Christian chivalry, would have seemed to tower and command. Ho walked with a step at once light and stately, as if it spurned tho earth ; and in the carriage of the small erect head and stag-like throat, there was that undefinable and imposing dignity, which accords so well with our conception of a heroic lineage, and a noblo though imperious spirit. The stranger approached Almamen, and paused abruptly when within a few steps of the enchanter. He gazed upon him in silence for some moments ; and, when at length he spoke, it was with a cold and sarcastic tone. “ Pretender to the dark secrets,” said he, “is it in the stars that thou art reading those destinies of men and nations, which the Prophet wrought by the chieftain’s brain and the soldier’s arm ? ” “ Prince,” replied Almamen, turning slowly, and recog¬ nising tho intruder on his meditations, “I was but considering how many revolutions, which have shaken earth to its centre, those orbs have witnessed, unsympathising and unchanged.” “Unsympathising!” repeated the Moor — “yet thou be- lievest in their effect upon tho earth ? ” “ Yon wrong me,” answered Almamen, with a slight smile, “ you confound your servant with that vain race, the astro¬ logers.” “ I deemed astrology a part of the science of the two Angels, Harut and Marut.” * “ Possibly ; but I know not that science, though I have wandered at midnight by tho ancient Babel.” “Fame lies to us, then,” answered the Moor, with some surprise. “Fame never made pretence to truth,” said Almamen, calmly, and proceeding on his way. “ Allah be with you, prince ! I seek the king.” “ Stay ! I have just quitted his presence, and left him, I trust, with thoughts worthy of the sovereign of Granada, which I would not have disturbed by a stranger, a man whose arms are not spear nor shield.” “Noble Muza,” returned Almamen, “fear not that my voice will weaken the inspirations which thine hath breathed into the breast of Boabdil. Alas ! if my counsel were heeded, * Tho science of magic. It was taught by tho Angels named in the text ; for which offence they are still supposed to bo confined in the ancient lfabel, There they may yet be consulted, though they are rarely seen. — Yallal’odin Yahya. — Sale’s Koran. c '& 20 LEILA. thou wouldst hear the warriors of Granada talk less of Muza, and more of the king. But Fate, or Allah, hath placed upon the throne of a tottering dynasty, one who, though brave, is weak — though wise, a dreamer ; and you suspect the adviser, when you find the influence of nature on the advised. Is this just ? ” Muza gazed long and sternly on the face of Almamen ; then, putting his hand gently on the enchanter’s shoulder, he said — “ Stranger, if thou playest us false, think that this arm hath cloven the casque of many a foe, and will not spare tho turban of a traitor ! ” “And think thou, proud prince ! ” returned Almamen, un¬ quailing, “that I answer alone to Allah for my motives, and that against man my deeds I can defend ! ” With these words, the enchanter drew his long robe round him, and disappeared amidst tho foliage. CHAPTER II. THE KING WITHIN HIS rALA.CE. In one of those apartments, the luxury of which is known only to the inhabitants of a genial climate (half chamber and ' half grotto), reclined a young Moor, in a thoughtful and musing attitude. The ceiling of cedar-wood, glowing with gold and azure, was supported by slender shafts, of the whitest alabaster, between which were open arcades, light and graceful ns the arched vineyards of Italy, and wrought in that delicate filagree- work common to tho Arabian architecture : through these arcades was seen at intervals the lapsing fall of waters, lighted by alabaster lamps ; and their tinkling music sounded with a fresh and regular murmur upon the ear. Tho whole of ono side of this apartment was open to a broad and extensive balcony, which overhung the banks of the winding and moon¬ lit Barro ; and in the clearness of the soft night might bo distinctly seen tho undulating hills, the woods, and orange- groves, which still form the unrivalled landscapes of Granada. The pavement was spread with ottomans and couches of tho richest azure, prodigally enriched with quaint designs in broideries of gold and silver; and over that on which tho LEILA. 21 Moor reclined, facing the open balcony, were suspended on a pillar, the round shield, the light javelin, and tho curving cirri iter, of Moorish warfare. Bo studded were those arras with jewels of rare cost, that they might alone have sufficed to indicate the rank of tho evident owner, even if his own gorgeous vestments had not betrayed it. An open manuscript, on a silver table, lay unread beforo the M.oor : as, leaning his face upon his hand, ho looked with abstracted eyes along the mountain summits, dimly distinguished from the cloudless and far horizon. No one could liavo gazed without a vague emotion of in¬ terest, mixed with melancholy, upon tho countenance of the inmate of that luxurious chamber. Its beauty was singularly stamped with a grave and stately sadness, which was made still more impressive by its air of youth and tho unwonted fairness of tho complexion : unliko the attributes of tho Moorish race, the hair and curling beard were of a deep golden colour; and on the broad forehead, and in the large eyes, was that settled and contomplativo mildness which rarely softens tho swart lineaments of the fiery children of tho sun. Such was tho personal appearance of Jloabdil el Chico, tho last of the Moorish dynasty in Spain. “ Those scrolls of Arabian learning,” said lloabdil to him¬ self, “ what do they teach ? to despiso wealth and power, to hold tho heart to bo tho true empire. This, then, is wisdom. Yet, if I follow these maxims, am I wise ? alas! tho whole world would call mo a driveller and a madman. Thus is it ever; tho wisdom of tho Intellect fills us with precepts which it is tho wisdom of Action to despise. 0 Holy prophet ! what fools men would be, if their knavory did not eclipse their folly ! ” Tho young king listlessly threw himself back on his cushions as he uttered these words, too philosophical for a king whose crown sato so loosely on his brow. After a few moments of thought that appeared to dissatisfy and disquiet him, Boabdil again turned impatiently round : “ My soul wants tho bath of music,” said ho ; “ these journeys into a pathless realm have wearied it, and tho streams of sound supplo and relax tho travailed pilgrim.” Ho clapped his hands, and from ono of the arcades a boy, hitherto invisible, started into sight ; at a slight and scarce pcrcoptible sign from tho king, tho boy again vanished, and in a fow moments afterwards, glancing through tho fairy pillars, and by tho glittering waterfalls, came the small and LEILA. 0 0 twinkling feet of tlie maids of Araby. As, with their trans¬ parent tunics and white arms, they gleamed, without an echo, through that cool and voluptuous chamber, they might wrell have seemed the Peris of the eastern magic, summoned to beguile the sated leisure of a youthful Solomon. With them came a maiden of more exquisite beauty, though smaller stature, than the rest, bearing the light Moorish lute ; and a faint and languid smile broke over the beautiful face of Boabdil, as his eyes rested upon her graceful form and the dark yet glowing lustre of her oriental countenance. She alone approached the king, timidly kissed his hand, and then, joining her comrades, commenced the following song, to the air and very words of which the feet of the dancing-girls kept time, while, with the chorus rang the silver bells of the musical instrument which each of the dancers carried. AMINE’S SONG. i. Softly, oh, softly glide, Gentle Music, thou silver tide, Bearing, the lull’d air along, This leaf from the Bose of Song ! To its port in liis soul let it float, The frail, but the fragrant boat, — Bear it, soft Air, along ! n. With the burthen of sound we are laden, Like the bells on the trees of Aden,* IV hen they thrill with a tinkling tone At the Wind from the Holy Throne, Hark, as we move around, "We shake oil' the buds of sound ; — Thy presence, Belov’d, is Aden 1 in. Sweet chimes that I hear and wake: I would, for my lov’d one’s sake, That I were a sound like thee, To the depths of his heart to flee. If my breath had his senses blest ; If my voice in liis heart could rest ; What pleasure to die like thee ! Tlie music ceased; the dancers remained motionless in their graceful postures, as if arrested into statues of alabaster ; and the young songstress cast herself on a cushion at the feet * The Mahometans believe that musical bells hang on the trees of Paradise, and are put in motion by a wind from the throne of God. LEILA. 23 of the monarch, and looked up fondly, but silently, into his yet melancholy eyes, — when a man, whose entrance had not been noticed, was seen to stand within the chamber. He was about the middle stature, — lean, muscular, and strongly though sparely built. A plain black robe, something in the fashion of the Armenian gown, hung long and loosely over a tunic of bright scarlet, girded by a broad belt, from the centre of which was suspended a small golden key, while at the left side appeared the jewelled hilt of a crooked dagger. His features Avere cast in a larger and grander mould than was common amongst the Moors of Spain ; the forehead was broad, massive, and singularly high, and the dark eyes of unusual size and brilliancy ; his beard, short, black, and glossy, curled upward, and concealed all the lower part of the face, save a firm, compressed, and resolute expression in the lips, which were large and full ; the nose was high, aquiline, and Avell-shapcd ; and the whole character of the head (Avhicli Avas, for symmetry, on too large and gigantic a scale as pro¬ portioned to the form) was indicative of extraordinary energy and power. At the first glance, the stranger might have seemed scarce on the borders of middle age ; but, on a more careful examination, the deep lines and wrinkles, marked on the forehead and round the eyes, betrayed a more advanced period of life. With arms folded on his breast, he stood by the side of the king, waiting in silence the moment Avhen his presence should be perceived. He did not wait long ; the eyes and gesture of the girl nestled at the feet of Boabdil drew the king’s attention to the spot where the stranger stood : his eye brightened when it fell upon him. “Almamen,” cried Boabdil, eagerly, “you are welcome.” As he spoke, he motioned to the dancing-girls to withdraw. “ May I not rest ? 0 core of my heart, thy bird is in its home,” murmured the songstress at the king’s feet. “ Sweet Amine,” answered Boabdil, tenderly smoothing down her ringlets as he bent to kiss her brow, “ you should witness only my hours of delight. Toil and business have nought with thee ; I will join thee ero yet the nightingale hymns his last music to the moon.” Amino sighed, rose, and vanished Avith her companions. “My friend,” said the king, when alone with Almamen, “your counsels often soothe me into quiet, yet in such hours quiet is a crime. But Avliat do ? — Iioav struggle ? — how act ? Alas ! at the hour of his birth, rightly did they affix to the £4 LEILA. name of Boabdil, tlio epithet of El Zogoyli.* Misfortune set upon my brow her dark and fated stamp ere yet my lips could shape a prayer against her power. My fierce father, whoso frown was as the frown of Azrael, hated me in my cradle ; in my youth my name was invoked by rebels against my will ; imprisoned by my father, with the poison-bowl or the dagger hourly before my eyes, I was saved only by the artifice of my mother. When ago and infirmity broke the iron sceptre of tho king, my claims to tho throne were set aside, and my uncle, I'll Zagal, usurped my birthright. Amidst open war and secret treason I wrestled for my crown ; and now, tho solo sovereign of Granada, when, as I fondly imagined, my uncle had lost all claim on the affections of my people by succumbing to the Christian king, and accepting a fief under his dominion, I find that tho very crime of Ml Zagal is fixed upon me by my unhappy subjects — that they deem ho would not have yielded but for my supineness. At the moment of my delivery from my rival, I am received with execration by my subjects, and, driven into this my fortress of the Alhambra, dare not venturo to head my armies, or to face my people ; yet am I called weak and irresolute, when strength and courage are forbid me. And as the water glides from yonder rock, that hath no power to retain it, I see the tide of empire welling from my hands.” The young king spoke warmly and bitterly; and, in the irritation of his thoughts, strode, while he spoke, with rapid and irregular strides along the chamber. Almamen marked his emotion with an eye and lip of rigid composure. “ Light of tho faithful,” said he, when Boabdil bad con¬ cluded, “tho powers above never doom man to perpetual sorrow, nor perpetual joy: tho cloud and tho sunshine are alike essential to the heaven of our destinies; and if thou hast suffered in thy youth, thou hast exhausted tho calamities of fate, and thy manhood will bo glorious, and thine age serene.” “ Thou speakest as if tho armies of Ferdinand were not already around my walls,” said Boabdil, impatiently. “ Tho armies of Sennacherib wore as mighty,” answered Almamen. “ Wise socr,” returned tho king, in a tone half sarcastic and half solemn, “ wc, tho Mnsselmen of Spain, are not tho blind fanatics ol tho Mastcrn world. On us have fallen tho lights of philosophy and science ; and if tho more clear-sighted * The unlucky. LEILA. 25 among ns yet outwardly reverence the forms and fables worshipped by the multitude, it is from the wisdom of policy, not the folly of belief. Talk not to me, then, of thine examples of the ancient and elder creeds : the agents of God for this world are now, at least, in men, not angels ; and if I wait till Ferdinand share the destiny of Sennacherib, I wait only till the Standard of the Cross wave above the Vermilion Towers.” “Yet,” said Almamen, “ w'hile my lord the king rejects the fanaticism of belief, doth he reject the fanaticism of per¬ secution ? You disbelieve the stories of the Hebrews ; yet you suffer the Hebrews themselves, that ancient and kindred Arabian race, to be ground to the dust, condemned and tortured by your judges, your informers, your soldiers, and your subjects.” “ The base misers ! they deserve their fate,” answered Boabdil, loftily. “ Gold is their god, and the market-place their country ; amidst the tears and groans of nations, they sympathise only with the rise and fall of trade ; and, the thieves of the universe ! while their hand is against every man’s coffer, w'hy wonder that they provoke the hand of every man against their throats ? Worse than the tribe of Hanifa, who eat their god only in time of famine ; * the race of Moisa f would sell the Seven Heavens for the dent J on the back of the date stone.” “Your laws leave them no ambition but that of avarice,” replied Almamen ; “ and as the plant will crook and distort its trunk, to raise its head through every obstacle to the sun, so the mind of man twists and perverts itself, if legitimate openings are denied it, to find its natural element in the gale of power, or the sunshine of esteem. These Hebrews were not traffickers and misers in their own sacred land when they routed your ancestors, the Arab armies of old ; and gnawed the flesh from their bones in famine, rather than yield a weaker city than Granada to a mightier force than the holiday lords of Spain. Let this pass. My lord rejects the belief in the agencies of the angels ; doth he still retain belief in the wisdom of mortal men ? ” “ Yes ! ” returned Boabdil, quickly ; “ for of the one I know nought ; of the other, mine own senses can be the judge. * The tribe of Hanifa worshipped a lump of dough. t Moisa, Moses. { A proverb used in the Koran, signifying the smallest possible trifle. 26 LEILA. Almamen, my fiery kinsman, Mnza, hath this evening boon with me. He hath nrged me to reject the fears of my people, which chain my panting spirit within these walls ; ho hath nrged me to gird on yonder shield and cimiter, and to appear in the Vivarrambla, at the head of the nobles of Granada. My heart leaps high at the thought ! and if I cannot live, at least I will die — a king! ” “ It is nobly spoken,” said Almamen, coldly. “You approve, then, my design ? ” “ The friends of the king cannot approve tho ambition of the king to die.” “Ha ! ” said Boabdil, in an altered voice, “thou thinkest, then, that I am doomed to perish in this struggle ? ” “As the hour shall be chosen, wilt thou fall or triumph.” “ And that hour ? ” “ Is not yet come.” “ Dost thou read the hour in tho stars ? ” “Let Moorish seers cultivate that frantic credulity: thy servant sees but in the stars worlds mightier than this little earth, whose light would neither wane nor wink, if earth itself were swept from the infinities of space.” “Mysterious man!” said Boabdil; whence, then, is thy power ? — whence thy knowledge of the future ? ” Almamen approached the king, as he now stood by tho open balcony. “Behold! ” said he, pointing to the waters of tho Darro — “yonder stream is of an clement in which man cannot livo nor breathe : above, in the thin and impalpable air, our steps cannot find a footing, the armies of all earth cannot build an empire. And yet, by tho exercise of a little art, the fishes and tho birds, the inhabitants of tho air and the water, minister to our most humble wants, the most common of our enjoj'ments ; so it is with the true science of enchantment. Thinkest thou that, while tho petty surface of the world is crowded with living things, there is no life in the vast centre within the earth, and the immense ether that surrounds it ? As tho fisherman snares his prey, as tho l'owlcr entraps tho bird, so, by tho art and genius of our human mind, we may thrall and command the subtler beings of realms and elements which our material bodies cannot enter — our gross senses cannot survey. This, then, is my lore. Of other worlds know I nought ; but of the things of this world, whether men, or, as your legends term them, ghouls and genii, I have learned something. To the future, I myself am blind ; but I LEILA. 27 can invoke and conjure up those whose eyes are more piercing, whose natures are more gifted.” “ Prove to me thy power,” said Boabdil, awed less by the words than by the thrilling voice and the impressive aspect of the enchanter. “Is not the king’s will my law?” answered Almamen ; “ be his will obeyed. To-morrow night I await thee.” “Where? ” Almamen paused a moment, and then whispered a sentenco in the king’s ear : Boabdil started, and turned pale. “ A fearful spot ! ” “ So is the Alhambra itself, great Boabdil ; while Ferdinand is without the walls, and Muza within the city.” “ Muza ! Darest thou mistrust my bravest warrior ? ” “ What wise king will trust the idol of the king’s army ? Did Boabdil fall to-morrow, by a chance javelin, in the field, whom would the nobles and the warriors place upon his throne? Doth it require an enchanter’s lore to whisper to thy heart the answer, in the name of 1 Muza ? ’ ” “ Oh, wretched state ! oh, miserable king ! ” exclaimed Boabdil, in a tone of great anguish. “ I never had a father ; I have now no people ; a little while, and I shall have no country. Am I never to have a friend ? ” “A friend! what king ever had?” returned Almamen, drily. “ Away, man — away ! ” cried Boabdil, as the impatient spirit of his rank and race shot dangerous fire from his eyes ; “your cold and bloodless vdsdom freezes up all the veins of my manhood ! Glory, confidence, human sympathy, and feeling — your counsels annihilate them all. Leave me ! I would be alone.” “Wo meet to-morrow, at midnight, mighty Boabdil,” said Almamen, with his usual unmoved and passionless tones. “ May the king live for ever ! ” The king turned ; but his monitor had already disappeared. He went as he came — noiseless and sudden as a ghost. 28 LEILA. CHAPTER III. THE LOVERS. When Muza parted from AJmamen, lie bent bis steps towards the bill that rises opposite the ascent crowned with the towers of the Alhambra ; the sides and summit of which cmincnco were tenanted by the luxurious population of the city, lie solected the more private and secluded paths ; and, half way up the hill, arrived, at last, before a low wall of con¬ siderable extent, which girded the gardens of some wealthier inhabitant of the city. He looked long and anxiously round : all was solitary ; nor was the stillness broken, save as an occasional breeze, from the snowy heights of the Sierra Nevada, rustled the fragrant leaves of the citron and pome¬ granate; or, as tho silver tinkling of waterfalls chimed melo¬ diously within the gardens. Tho Moor’s heart beat high : a moment more, and he had scaled tho wall ; and found himself upon a green sward, variegated by the rich colours of many a sleeping flower, and shaded by groves and alleys of luxuriant foliago and golden fruits. It was not long before he stood beside a house that seemed of a construction anterior to the Moorish dynasty. It was built over low cloisters, formed by heavy and time-worn pillars, concealed, for the most part, by a profusion of roses and creeping shrubs : the lattices above the cloisters opened upon large gilded balconies, the super-addition of Moriscan taste. In one only of the easements a lamp was visible ; the rest of the mansion was dark, as if, save in that chamber, sleep kept watch over the inmates. It was to this window that tho Moor stole ; and, after a moment's pause, he murmured rather than sung, so low and whispered was his voice, tho following simple verses, slightly varied from an old Arabian poet : — SERENADE. Light of mjr soul, arise, arise ! Thy sister lights are in the skies ; We want thine eyes, Thy joyous eyes ; Tho Night is mourning for thine eyes ! The sacred verse is on my sword, But on iny heart thy name: The words on each alike adored ; Tho truth of euch the same, — LEILA. 29 The same ! — alas ! too well I feel The heart is truer than the steel ! Light of my soul ! upon me shine ; Night wakes her stars to envy mine. Those eyes of thine, "W ild eyes of thine, "What stars are like those eyes of thine ? As he concluded, the lattice softly opened ; and a female form appeared on the balcony. “ Ah, Leila! ” said the Moor, “ I see thee, and I am blessed ! ” “ Hush ! ” answered Leila ; “ speak low, nor tarry long : I fear that our interviews are suspected ; and this (she added, in a trembling voice) may perhaps be the last time we shall meet.” “ Holy prophet ! ” exclaimed Muza, passionately, “ what do I hear ? Why this mystery ? why cannot I learn thine origin, thy rank, thy parents ? Think you, beautiful Leila, that Granada holds a house lofty enough to disdain the alliance with Muza Ben Abil Gazan ? and oh ! he added, (sinking the haughty tones of his voice into accents of the softest tenderness,) if not too high to scorn me, what should war against our loves and our bridals ? For worn equally on my heart were the flower of thy sweet self, whether the mountain top or the valley gave birth to the odour and the bloom.” “ Alas ! ” answered Leila, weeping, “ the mystery thou com- plainest of, is as dark to myself as thee. How often have I told then that I know nothing of my birth or childish for¬ tunes, save a dim memory of a more distant and burning clime; where, amidst sands and 'wastes, springs the everlast¬ ing cedar, and the camel grazes on stunted herbage withering in tlio fiery air ? Then, it seemed to me that I had a mother : fond eyes looked on me, and soft songs hushed me into sleep.” “ Thy mother’s soul has passed into mine,” said the Moor, tenderly. Leila continued : — “ Borne hither, I passed from childhood into youth within these walls. Slaves minister to my slightest wish ; and those who have seen both state and poverty, which I have not, tell me that treasures and splendour, that might glad a monarch, are prodigalised around me : but of ties and kindred know I little : my father, a stern and silent man, visits me but rarely — sometimes months pass, and I see him not ; but I feel he loves me ; and, till I knew thee, Muza, my LEILA. 30 brightest hours were in listening to the footsteps and flying to the arms of that solitary friend.” “ Know yon not his name? ” “ Nor I, nor any orio of the household ; save perhaps Ximen, the chief of the slaves, an old and withered man, whoso very eye chills me into fear and siloncc.” “ Strange ! ” said the Moor, musingly ; “ yet why think you our love is discovered, or can be thwarted? ” “ Hush! Ximen sought me this day: ‘Maiden,’ said ho, ‘men’s footstep’s have been tracked within the gardens; if your sire know this, you will have looked your last on Granada. Learn,’ ho added, (in a softer voice, as he saw me tremble,) ‘that permission were easier given to thee towed the wild tiger, than to mate with the loftiest noble of Morisca ! Bcwaro ! ’ Ho spoke, and loft me. O Muza! (she continued, passionately wringing her hands,) my heart sinks within me, and omen and doom rise dark before my sight ! ” “ By my father’s head, these obstacles but fire my love ; and I would sealo to thy possession, though every step in the ladder were the corpses of a hundred foes ! ” Scarcely had the fiery and high-souled Moor uttered his boast, than, from some unseen hand amidst the groves, a ■javelin whirred past him, and, as the air it raised came sharp upon his check, half buried its quivering shaft in the trunk of a, tree behind him. “ Fly, fly, and savo thyself ! O God, protect him ! ” cried Leila; and she vanished within the chamber. The Moor did not wait the result of a deadlier aim; he turned ; yet, in the instinct of his fierce nature, not from, but against, the foe; his drawn cimitcr in liis hand, the half-sup¬ pressed cry of wrath trembling on his lips, he sprang forward in the direction whence the javelin had sped. With eyes accustomed to I he ambuscades of Moorish warfare, he searched eagerly, yet warily, through the dark and sighing foliage. No sign of life met 1 1 is gaze; and at length, grimly and reluc¬ tantly, he retraced his steps, and quitted the demesnes: but, just, as ho had cleared tho wall, a voice — low, but sharp and shrill came from the gardens. “ Thou art spared,” it said, “ but, haply, for a more miser- able doom 1 ” LEILA. 31 CHAPTER IV. THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER. The chamber into which Leila retreated bore ont the cha¬ racter she had given of the interior of her home. The fashion of its ornament and decoration was foreign to that adopted by the Moors of Granada. It had a more massive, and if we may use the term, Egyptian gorgeousness. The walls were covered with the stuffs of the East, stiff with gold, embroi¬ dered upon ground of the deepest purple ; strange characters, apparently in some foreign tongue, were wrought in the tesselated cornices and on the heavy ceiling, which was sup¬ ported by square pillars, round which were twisted serpents of gold and enamel, with eyes to which enormous emeralds gave a green and lifelike glare : various scrolls and musical instruments lay scattered upon marble tables : and a solitary lamp of burmished silver cast a dim and subdued light around the chamber. The effect of the whole, though splendid, was gloomy, strange, and oppressive, and rather suited to the thick and cavelike architecture which of old protected the inhabitants of Thebes and Memphis from the rays of the African sun, than to the transparent heaven and light pavilions of the graceful orientals of Granada. Leila stood within this chamber, pale and breathless, with her lips apart, her hands clasped, her very soul in her ears ; nor was it possible to conceive a more perfect ideal of some delicate and brilliant Peri, captured in the palace of a hostile and gloomy Genius. Her form was of the lightest shape consistent with the roundness of womanly beauty ; and there was something in it of that elastic and fawnlike grace which a sculptor seeks to embody in his dreams of a being more aerial than those of earth. Her luxuriant hair was dark indeed, but a purple and glossy hue redeemed it from that heaviness of shade too common in the tresses of the Asiatics ; and her complexion, naturally pale, but clear and lustrous, would have been deemed fair even in the north. Her features, slightly aquiline, were formed in the rarest mould of sym¬ metry, and her full rich lips disclosed teeth that might have shamed the pearl. But the chief charm of that exquisite countenance was in an expression of softness and purity, and intellectual sentiment, that seldom accompanies that cast of loveliness, and was wholly foreign to the voluptuous and 3:J LEILA. dreamy languor of Moorish maidens ; Leila had been edu¬ cated, and the statue had received a soul. After a few minutes of intense suspense, she again stole to the lattice, gently unclosed it, and looked forth. Far, through an opening amidst tho trees, she descried for a single moment, tho erect and stately figure of her lover, darkening the moon¬ shine on the sward, as now, quitting his fruitless search, he turned his lingering gaze towards the lattice of his beloved : tho thick and interlacing foliage quickly hid him from her eyes ; but Leila had seen enough — she turned within, and said, as grateful tears trickled down her cheeks, and she sank on her knees upon the piled cushions of tho chamber: “God of my fathers ! I bless thee — he is safe ! ” “ And yet (she added, as a painful thought crossed her), how may I pray for him ? we kneel not to the same Divinity ; and I have been taught to loathe and shudder at his creed ! Alas ! how will this end ? Fatal was the hour when he first boh eld me in yonder gardens, more fatal still the hour in which lie crossod the barrier, and told Leila that she was be¬ loved by the hero whose arm was the shelter, whose name is tho blessing, of Granada. Ah, me ! Ah, me ! ’’ The young maiden covered her face with her hands, and sunk into a passionate reverie, broken only by her sobs. Some time had passed in this undisturbed indulgence of her grief, when tho arras was gently put aside, and a man, of remark¬ able garb and mien, advanced into the chamber, pausing as he bohcld her dejected attitude, and gazing on her with a look in which pity and tenderness seemed to struggle against habitual severity and sternness. “ Leila ! ” said the intruder. Leila started, and a deep blush suffused her countenance ; sho dashed tho tears from her eyes, and came forward with a vain attempt to smile. “ My father, welcome ! ’’ The stranger seated himself on the cushions, and motioned Leila to his side. “ Thcso tears are fresh upon thy cheek,” said he, gravely ; “ they are the witness of thy race ! our daughters are born to weep, and our sons to groan ! ashes are on the head of tho mighty, and tho Fountains of the Beautiful run with gall ! Oh that wo could but struggle — that we could but dare — that we could raiso up our heads, and unite against the bondage of the evil doer ! It may not bo — but one man shall avenge a nation ! ” I, Ml LA. The dark face of Loila’s father, well fitted to express powerful emotion, became terrible in its wrath and passion; Iii'h brow arid lip worked convulsively; but tiro paroxysm was brief ; and scarce could she shudder at its intensity, oro it had subsided into calm. “ Enough of theso thoughts, which thou, a woman and a child, art not formed to witness. Leila, thou hast boon nur¬ tured with tenderness, and schooled with care. Harsh and unloving may 1 have seemed to thoo, but I would have shed the best drops of my heart to havo saved thy young yoars from a single pang. Nay, listen to me, silently. That thou mightest one day bo worthy of thy race, and that thine hours might not pass in indolent and weary lassitude, thou hast boon taught the lessons of a knowledge rarely given to tliy sox. Not thine the lascivious arts of tho Moorish maidens ; not thine thoir harlot songs, and their dances of lewd delight ; thy delicate limbs were but taught the attitude that Naturo dedicates to tho worship of a God, and tho music of thy voice was tuned to tho songs of thy fallen, country, sad with tho memory of her wrongs, animated with the names of her heroes, holy with the solemnity of her prayors. Theso scrolls, and tho lessons of our seers, havo imparted to thoo such’of our science and our history as may fit thy mind to aspire, and thy heart to feel for a sacred cause. Thou listenost to mo, LoilaP” Perplexed and wondoring, for never boforo had her father addressed her in such a strain, tho maiden answered with an earnestness of manner that seemed to content the questioner; and he resumed, with an altoroil, hollow, solemn voice : “ Then curse tho persecutors. Daughter of tho great Hebrew race, arise and curse tho Moorish task-master and spoiler ! ” As ho spoke, the ad juror himself rose, lifting his right hand on high, while his left touched Hie shoulder of the maiden. Hut she, aftor gazing a moment in wild and terrified amaze¬ ment upon bis face, fell cowering at his knees and, clasping them imploringly, exclaimed, in scarce articulate murmurs : “ Oh, spare mo ! spare mo ! ” Tho Hebrew, for such he was, surveyed her, as sho thus quailed at his feet, with a look of rago and scorn: his band wandered to his poniard, ho half unsheathed it, thrust if. back with a muttered curse, and then, deliberately drawing it forth, cast it on the ground beside her. “ Degenerate girl ! ” he said, in accents that vainly struggled a 34 LEILA. for calm, “ if thou liast admitted to thy lieart one unworthy thought towards a Moorish infidel, dig deep and root it out, even with, the knife, and to the death — so wilt thon save this hand from that degrading task.” He drew himself hastily from her grasp, and left the un¬ fortunate girl alone and senseless. CHAPTER V. AMBITION DISTORTED INTO TICE BT LAW. On descending a broad flight of stairs from the apartment, the Hebrew encountered an old man, habited in loose gar¬ ments of silk and fur, upon whose withered and wrinkled face life seemed scarcely to struggle against the advance of death — so haggard, wan, and corpse-like, was its aspect. “ Ximen,” said the Israelite, “ trusty and beloved servant, follow me to the cavern.” He did not tarry for an answer, but continued his way with rapid strides, through various courts and alleys, till he came at length into a narrow, dark, and damp gallery, that seemed cut from the living rock. At its entrance was a strong grate, which gave way to the Hebrew’s touch upon the spring, though the united strength of a hundred men could not have moved it from its hinge. Taking up a brazen lamp that burnt in a niche within it, the Hebrew paused impatiently till the feeble steps of the old man reached the spot ; and then, reclosing the grate, pursued his winding way for a considerable distance, till he stopped suddenly by a part of the rock which seemed in no respect different from the rest : and so artfully contrived and con¬ cealed was the door which he now opened, and so suddenly did it yield to his hand, that it appeared literally the effect of enchantment, when the rock yawned, and discovered a cir¬ cular cavern, lighted with brazen lamps, and spread 'with hangings and cushions of thick furs. Upon rude and seem¬ ingly natural pillars of rock, various antique and rusty arms were suspended ; in largo niches were deposited scrolls, clasped and bound with iron ; and a profusion of strange and uncouth instruments and machines (in which modern scienco might, perhaps, discover the tools of chemical invention), gave a magical and ominous aspect to the wild abode. The Hebrew cast himself on a couch of furs ; and, as the L1C1LA. ,‘55 old man cmtorod and closed tho door, “Ximon,” said he, “ iill mil. winn- -it is a soothing counsellor, and 1 need it.” hlxtruoting from one of the rocosses of tho cavern a flask and goblet, Ximon proffered to his lord a copious draught of flm sparkling vintage of tho Vega, which scorned to invigorate and restore him. "Old man,” said lie, concluding the potation with a deep- drawn sigh, “ Iill to thyself drink till thy veins feel young.” Ximon obeyed the mandate but imperfectly ; tho wine just touched his lips, and tho goblet was put aside. “ .Ximon,” resumed tho Israelite, “ how many of our race have been butchered by the avarice of tho Moorish kings, since first thou didst set foot within tho city ? ” “Three thousand — the number was completed last winter, by tho order of Jusof, the vizier; and their goods and coffers arc transformed into shafts and cimeters, against tho dogs of ( lalilee.” “ Tlirco thousand — no more! tliroo thousand only! I would tho number had been tripled, for the interest is bo- coming due ! ’’ “ My brother, and my son, and my grandson, arc among tho number,” said the old man, and his face grow yet more deathlike. “ Their monuments shall bo in hecatombs of their tyrants. They shall not, at least, call tlm Jews niggards in revenge." “ Hut pardon me, noble child’ of a fallen people; thinkost thou wo shall bo less despoiled and trodden under foot by yon haughty and stiff-necked Nazarcnes, than by tho Arabian misbelievers P ” “ Accursed, in truth, aro both,” returned the Hebrew ; “ but tho one promise more fairly than tho other. I have seen this Ferdinand, and his proud queen; they are pledged to accord us rights and immunities wo have never known before in Kuropo.” ** Ami they will not touch our traffic, our gains, our gold?” “ Out on thoo ! ” cried I ho fiery Israelite, stamping on tho ground. “ 1 would all tho gold of earth were sunk into tho everlasting pit ! It is this mean, and miserable, and loath¬ some leprosy of avarice, that gnaws away from our whole race the heart, the soul, nay — the very form, of man ! Many a time, when I have seen the lordly features of tho descen¬ dants of Solomon and Joshua (features that stamp tho nobility of the eastern world born to mastery and command) l) 2 36 LEILA. sharpened and furrowed by petty cares, — when I have looked upon the frame of the strong man bowed, like a crawling reptile, to some huckstering bargainer of silks and unguents, ■ — and heard the voice, that should be raising the battle-cry, smoothed into fawning accents of base fear, or yet baser hope, — I have asked myself, if I am indeed of the blood of Israel ! and thanked the great Jehovah, that he hath spared me, at least, the curse that hath blasted my brotherhood into usurers and slaves ! ” Ximen prudently forbore an answer to enthusiasm which he neither shared nor understood ; but, after a brief silence, turned back the stream of the conversation. “ You resolve, then, upon prosecuting vengeance on the Moors, at whatsoever hazard of the broken faith of these Nazar ones ? ” “Ay, the vapour of human blood hath risen unto heaven, and, collected into thunder clouds, hangs over the doomed and guilty city. And now, Ximen, I have a new cause for hatred to the Moors : the flower that I have reared and watched, the spoiler hath sought to pluck it from my hearth. Leila — thou hast guarded her ill, Ximen ; and, wert thou not endeared to me by thy very malice and vices, the rising sun should have seen thy trunk on the waters of the Darro.” “My lord,” replied Ximen, “if thou, the wisest of our people, canst not guard a maiden from love, how canst thou see crime in the dull eyes and numbed senses of a miserable old man ? ” The Israelite did not answer, nor seem to hear this depre¬ catory remonstrance. He appeared rather occupied with his own thoughts; and, speaking to himself, he muttered, “ It must be so : the sacrifice is hard — the danger great ; but here, at least, it is more immediate. It shall be done. Ximen,” he continued, speaking aloud; “dost thou feel assured that even mine own countrymen, mine own tribe, know me not as one of them ? Were my despised birth and religion pub¬ lished, my limbs would be torn asunder as an impostor; and all the arts of the Cabala could not save me.” “Doubt not, great master; none in Granada, save thy faithful Ximen, know thy secret.” “ So let me dream and hope. And now to my work ; for this night must bo spent in toil.” The Hebrew drew before him some of the strange instru¬ ments we have described ; and took from the recesses in the rock several scrolls. The old man lay at his feet, ready to LEILA. 37 obey bis bebests ; but, to all appearance, rigid and motionless as the dead, whom bis blanched hues and shrivelled form resembled. It was, indeed, as the picture of the enchanter at his work, and the corpse of some man of old, revived from the grave to minister to his spells, and execute his com¬ mands. Enough in the preceding conversation has transpired to convince the reader, that the Hebrew, in whom he has already detected the Almamen of the Alhambra, was of no character common to his tribe. Of a lineage that shrouded itself in the darkness of his mysterious people, in their day of power, and possessed of immense wealth, which threw into poverty the resources of Gothic princes, — the youth of that remarkable man had been spent, not in traffic and merchandise, but travel and study. Asa child, his home had been in Granada. He had seen his father butchered by the late king, Mnley Abul Hassan, without other crime than his reputed riches ; and his body literally cut open, to search for the jewels it was supposed he had swallowed. He saw ; and, boy as he was, he vowed revenge. A distant kinsman bore the orphan to lands more secure from persecution ; and the art with which the Jews concealed their wealth, scattering it over various cities, had secured to Almamen the treasures the tyrant of Granada had failed to grasp. He had visited the greater part of the world then known ; and resided for many years in the court of the sultan of that hoary Egypt, which still retained its fame for abstruse science and magic lore. He had not in vain applied himself to such tempting and wild researches ; and had acquired many of those secrets, now perhaps lost for ever to the -world. We do not mean to intimate that he attained to what legend and superstition impose upon our faith as the art of sorcery. He could neither command the elements, nor pierce the veil of the future, — scatter armies with a word, nor pass from spot to spot by the utterance of a charmed formula. But men -who, for ages, had passed their lives in attempting all the effects that can astonish and awe the vulgar, could not but learn some secrets which all the more sober wisdom of modern times would search ineffectually to solve or to revive. And many of such arts, acquired mechanically (their invention often the work of a chemical accident), those -who attained to them could not always explain, nor account for the phenomena they created, so that the mightiness of their own deceptions 38 LEILA. deceived themselves ; and they often believed they were the masters of the Nature to which they were, in reality, but erratic and wild disciples. Of such was the student in that grim cavern. He was, in some measure, the dupe, partly of liis own bewildered wisdom, partly of the fervour of an imagination exceedingly high-wrought and enthusiastic. His own gorgeous vanity intoxicated him : and, if it be an his¬ torical truth that the kings of the ancient world, blinded by their own power, had moments in which they believed them¬ selves more than men, it is not incredible that sages, elevated even above kings, should conceive a frenzy as weak, or, it may be, as sublime : and imagine that they did not claim, in vain, the awful dignity with which the faith of the multitude in¬ vested their faculties and gifts. But, though the accident of birth, which excluded him from all field for energy and ambition, had thus directed the powerful mind of Almamen to contemplation and study, nature had never intended passions so fierce for the calm, though visionary pursuits to which ho was addicted. Amidst scrolls and seers, he had pined for action and glory ; and, baffled in all wholesome egress, by the universal exclusion which, iu every land, and from every faith, met the religion ho belonged to, the faculties within him ran riot, producing gigantic, but baseless schemes, which, as one after the other crumbled away, left behind feelings of dark misanthropy, and intense revenge. Perhaps, had his religion been prosperous and powerful, he might have been a sceptic ; persecution and affliction made him a fanatic. Yet, true to that prominent characteristic of the old Hebrew race, which made them look to a Messiah only as a warrior and a prince, and which taught them to associate all their hopes and schemes with worldly victories and power, Almamen desired rather to advance, than to obey, his religion. He cared little for its precepts, he thought little of its doctrines ; but, night and day, ho revolved his schemes for its earthly restoration and triumph. At that time, the Moors in Spain were far moro deadly persecutors of the Jews than the Christians were. Amidst the Spanish cities on the coast, that merchant tribe had formed commercial connexions with the Christians, sufficiently beneficial, both to individuals as to communities, to obtain for them, not only toleration, but something of personal friend¬ ship, wherever men bought and sold in the market-place. And the gloomy fanaticism which afterwards stained the LEILA. 39 fame of the great Ferdinand, and introduced the horrors of tho Inquisition, had not yet made itself more than fitfully visible, lint the Moors had treated this unhappy people with a wholesale and relentless barbarity. At Granada, under the reign of the fierce father of Boabdil, — “ that king with the tiger heart,” — the Jews had been literally placed without the pale of humanity ; and even under tho mild and contempla¬ tive Boabdil himself, they had been plundered without mercy, and, if suspected of secreting their treasures, massacred with¬ out scruple ; tho wants of tho state continued their unrelenting accusers, — their wealth, their inexpiable crime. It was in the midst of these barbarities that Almamen, for tho first time since tho day when tho death-shriek of his agonised father rang in his cars, suddenly returned to Granada. Ho saw tho unmitigated miseries of his brethren, and he re¬ membered and repeated his vow. His name changed, his kindred dead, none remembered, in the mature Almamen, the beardless child of Issachar, the Jew. He had long, indeed, deemed it advisable to disguise his faith ; and was known, throughout the African kingdoms, but as tho potent santon, or the wise magician. This fame soon lifted him, in Granada, high in the councils of the court. Admitted to tho intimacy of Muley Hassan, with Boabdil, and tho queen mother, he had conspired against that monarch ; and had lived, at least, to avenge his father upon tho royal murderer. Ho was no less intimato with Boabdil ; but, steeled against fellowship or affection for all men out of the pale of his faith, he saw, in the confidence of the king, oidy tho blindness of a victim. Serpent as ho was, he cared not through what mire of treachery and fraud ho trailed his baleful folds, so that, at last, he could spring upon his prey. Nature had given him sagacity and strength. The curse of circumstance had humbled, but reconciled him to the dust. He had the crawl of the reptile, — he had, also, its poison and its fangs. i ,i :i i-A. oirAm'in vi. 'I'll JO I, ION IN TUB NUT. I i wmi Mm im\l, night, noli long before day-break, Mini, Mm King nl ( I rii i iim In. n, Imi ptly Niiimnoimil In Ih’h council, .Inset’, liin vi/,ier. Tim old mini fmiml Hnabdil in great disordor ami i\ ( • i I , i • 1 1 1 <■ 1 1 1 . ; Iml Ii<< 1 1 1 1 1 1 < ih I. < I (i(i 1 1 it I 1 1 is sovereign mail, when Im received from him Mm order ho soi/,o upon Min pnrHon of Mir/, a Men Aliil (la/, an, and ho lodge him in Min strongest dungeon nl' 1,1m Vermilion Tmvrr. I’resuming upon Hoabdil’s nil, I n m I mild iicuh, Mm vi/,ier viuihured ho rcmmiHl nil e, to sug¬ gest him danger of laying violent, hands upon a, chief ho linloved, and ho imp, lire whnh eaiiHO should ho aHHigned for him mil rage. Tim veitiH H Welled like cords upon Itoahdil'H brow, iih ho liiihened ho him vi/ier; and his aiiHwer was short, and por- emphnry. “ Am I yeh a king, Mini, I should fear a, snhjeofc, or oxeuso my will F Tlmu haul, my orders ; Micro are my signet, and him lirmuii : ohedieimn, or the how siring I ” Never heforo had llonbdil so resumhlod his dread father in 1 1 1 leech and air; Mm vi/.ier tromblod In him soles of his feel, and withdrew in silence. Ihmhdil watched him depart; and Ihi'ii, clasping Ion hands in great emotion, exclaimed, “ <) lips of Mu' (hind! ye have' warned me; and to you I saeriQeo the friend of my youth,” (•n ipiihhing lloahdil, him \i/,ier, taking with him some of those foreign slaves of a seraglio, who know no sympathy with human passion outside its walls, limit, his way to the palace of Mu/, a, sorely pm/, /.led and perplexed. Me did not, however, like to vent ure upon the hn/.ard of the alarm it, might, oeeieiiim throughout I lie neighbourhood, if he endea¬ voured, nl so iinseasonalilo an hour, to force an entrance, lie resolved, rat her, with his train, to wait, at, a little distance, I ill, vv it h I lie grow ing dawn, Mm gates should bo unclosed, and t lie initiates ol t he palace astir. Accordingly, cursing his stars, and wondering at his mis¬ sion, .Inset, and his silent, and ominous attendants, concealed themselves in a small copse adjoining the palace, nut it Mm (lav -light fairly broke over tlm awakened city. lie then passed into (.lit* palace; and was conducted to a hall, where lie found the renowned Moslem already list ir, and conferring LEILA. 41 avi tli Homo Zogri captains upon the tactics of a sortie designed for that day. it was with so ovident a reluctance and apprehension that J u sof approached the prince, that tho fierce and quick-sighted Zogris instantly suspected some evil intention in his visit; and, when Muza, in surprise, yielded to tho prayer of the vizier for a private audience, it was with scowling brows and sparkling eyes that the Moorish warriors left the darling of tho nobles alono with the messenger of their king. “ By the tomb of the prophet ! ” said one of the Zegris, as ho quitted the hall, “the timid Boabdil suspects our JJen Abil Gazan. 1 loarncd of this before.” “ 1 lush ! ” said another of the hand ; “ let us watch. If tho king touch a hair of Muza’s head, Allah have mercy on his sins ! ” Meanwhile, tho vizier, in silence, showed to Muza tho fir¬ man and the signet ; and then, without venturing to announce the place to which ho was commissioned to conduct the prince, besought him to follow at once. Muza changed colour, but not with fear. “ Alas ! ” said he, in a tone of deep sorrow, “ can it be that I have fallen under my royal kinsman’s suspicion or displea¬ sure ? But no matter ; proud to set to Granada an example of valour in her defence, bo it mine to set, also, an example of obcdionco to her king. Go on— I will follow thee. Yet stay, you will have no need of guards ; let us depart by a private egress : tho Zegris might misgive, did they see mo leave the palace with you at tho very timo tho army are assembling in tho Yivarrambla, and awaiting my presence. This way.” Thus saying, Muza, who, fierce as he was, obeyed every impulse that the oriental loyalty dictated from a subject to a king, passed from the hall to a small door that admitted into the garden, and in thoughtful silence accompanied the vizier towards the Alhambra. As they passed the copse in which Muza, two nights before, had met with Almamen, the Moor, lifting his head suddenly, beheld fixed upon him the dark eyes of tho magician, as he emerged from the trees. Muza thought there was in those eyes a malign and hostile exulta¬ tion ; but Almamen, gravely saluting him, passed on through tho grove : tho prince did not deign to look back, or he might once more have encountered that withering gaze. “Proud heathen!” muttered Almamen to himself, “thy father filled his treasuries from the gold of many a tortured LEILA. 42 Hebrew ; and even thou, too haughty to be the miser, hast been savage enough to play the bigot. Thy name is a curse in Israel ; yet dost thou lust after the daughter of our despised race, and, could defeated passion sting thee, I were avenged. Ay, sweep on, with thy stately step and lofty crest — thou goest to chains, perhaps to death.” As Almamen thus vented his bitter spirit, the last gleam of the white robes of Muza vanished from his gaze. He paused a moment, turned away abruptly, and said, half aloud, Ven¬ geance, not on one man only, but a whole race ! How for the Nazar ene.” BOOK II. — t — CHAPTER I. THE ROYAL TENT OP SPAIN. — THE KING AND THE DOMINICAN. — THE VISITOR AND THE HOSTAGE. Our narrative now summons us to the Christian army, and to the tent in which the Spanish king held nocturnal counsel with some of his more confidential warriors and advisers. Ferdinand had taken the field with all the pomp and circum¬ stance of a tournament rather than of a campaign ; and his pavilion literally blazed with purple and cloth of gold. The king sate at the head of a table on which were scattered maps and papers ; nor in countenance and mien did that great and politic monarch seem unworthy of the brilliant chivalry by which he was surrounded. His black hair, richly per¬ fumed and anointed, fell in long locks on either side of a high imperial brow ; upon whose calm, though not unfn-rrowed surface, the physiognomist would in vain have sought to read the inscrutable heart of kings. His features were regular and majestic : and his mantle, clasped with a single jewel of rare price and lustre, and wrought at the breast with a silver cross, waved over a vigorous and manly frame, which derived from the composed and tranquil dignity of habitual command that imposing effect which many of the renowned knights and heroes in his presence took from loftier stature and ampler proportions. At his right hand, sat Prince Juan, his son, in the first bloom of youth ; at his left, the celebrated Rodrigo Ponce de Leon, marquess of Cadiz ; along the table, in the order of their military rank, were seen the splendid Duke of Medina Sidonia, equally noble in aspect and in name ; the worn and thoughtful countenance of the Marquess de Villena (the Bayard of Spain) ; the melancholy brow of the heroic Alonzo de Aguilar ; and the gigantic frame, the animated features, and sparkling eyes, of that fiery Hernando del Pul- gar, surnamed “ the knight of the exploits.” LET LA. 44 “ ^ on sop, scfiores,” said I ho king, continuing an address, to which his chiefs seemed io liston with reverential attention, “ onr best hope of speedily gaining the city is rather in tho dissensions ol the Moors than onr own sacred arms. The walls are strong, the population still numerous; and under Muza lien Abil (la/, an, (he tactics of the hostile army are, it must bo owned, administered with such skill as to threaten very formidable delays to tho period of our conquest. Avoiding tho hazard ol a lixed battle, tho infidel cavalry harass our camp by perpetual skirmishes; and in the mountain defiles our detachments cannot cope with their light horse and treacherous ambuscades. It is true, that by dint of time, by the complete devastation of tho Vega, and by vigilant preven¬ tion of convoys from the sea-towns, we might starve the city into yielding. But, alas ! my lords, our enemies are scattered and numerous, and Granada is not the only place before which the standard of Spain should be unfurled. Thus situated, t he lion does not disdain to serve himself of the fox ; and, for¬ tunately, we have now in Granada an ally that lights for us. I have actual knowledge of all that passes within the Alhambra: tlu' king yet remains in his palace, irresolute and dreaming; and 1 trust that an intrigue, by which his jealousies are aroused against bis general, Muza, may end either in the loss ol that able leader, or in the commotion of open rebellion or civil war. Treason within Granada will open its gates to us.” '* bare,’ said Ponce do Leon, after a pause, “ under your counsels, 1 no more doubt of seeing our banner float above tho Vermilion 'Powers, than I doubt tho rising of the sun over yonder hills; it matters little whether we win by stratagem or force. But 1 need not say to your highness, that wo should carefully beware, lest wo bo amused by inventions of (lie enemy, and trust to conspiracies which may be but lying tales to blunt onr sabres, and paralyse our action.” “Bravely spoken, wise do Leon!’' exclaimed Ilernando del Bulgur, hotly : “and against these infidels, aided by tho cunning of the Evil One, methinks onr best wisdom lies in (he sword-arm. Well says our old Castilian proverb — ‘ Curse them devoutly, Hummer them stoutly.’ ” The king smiled slightly at the ardour of the favourite of his army, but looked round for more deliberate counsel. “ feire, said Villona, “fur bo it from us to inquire tho LEILA. •15 grounds upon ■which your majesty builds your hopo of dis¬ sension among the foe ; but, placing the most sanguine con¬ fidence in a wisdom never to bo deceived, it is clear that wo should relax no energy within our means, but fight while we plot, and seek to conquer, whilo wo do not neglect to under¬ mine.” “ You speak well, my lord,” said Ferdinand, thoughtfully; “and you yourself shall head a strong detachment to-morrow, to lay waste the Vega. Seek me two hours hence ; the council for the present is dissolved.” Tho knights rose, and withdrew with the usual grave and stately ceremonies of respect, which Ferdinand observed to, and exacted from, his court: the young prince remained. “Son,” said Ferdinand, when they were alone, “early and betimes should tho Infants of Spain be lessoned in tho science of kingcraft. Those nobles are among the brightest jewels of the crown ; but still it is in the crown, and for the crown, that thoir light should sparkle. Thou sccst how hot, and fierce, and warlike, are the chiefs of Spain — excellent virtues when manifested against our foes: but had wo no foes, Juan, such virtues might cause ns exceeding trouble. By St. dago, I liavo founded a mighty monarchy ! observe how if should be maintained : — by science, Juan, by science ! and science is as far removed from brute force as this sword from a crow¬ bar. Thou seemest bewildered and amazed, my son: thou hast heard that .1 seek to conquer Granada by dissensions among tho Moors; when Granada is conquered, remember that the nobles themselves are a Granada. Avo Maria! blessed be the Holy Mother, under whoso eyes are the hearts of kings ! ” Ferdinand crossed himself devoutly ; and then, rising, drew aside a part of the drapery of the pavilion, and called, in a low voice, the name of Perez. A grave Spaniard, somewhat past the verge of middle age, appeared. “ Perez,” said tho king, reseating himself, “ has tho person we expected from Granada yet arrived ? ” “Sire, yes; accompanied by a maiden.” “ Ho hath kept his word ; admit them. Ha, holy father ! thy visits are always as balsam to tho heart.” “ Save you, my son ! ” returned a man in the robes of a Dominican friar, who had entered suddenly and without ceremony by another part of tho tent, and who now seated himself with smileless composure at a little distance from tho king. 46 LEILA. There was a dead silence for some moments ; and Perez still lingered within the tent, as if in doubt whether the entrance of the friar would not prevent or delay obedience to the king’s command. On the calm face of Ferdinand himself appeared a slight shade of discomposure and irresolution, w'hen the monk thus resumed : “ My presence, my son, will not, I trust, disturb your con¬ ference wTith the infidel — since you deem that worldly policy demands your parley with the men of Belial? ” “Doubtless not — doubtless not,” returned the king, quickly: then, muttering to himself, “ how wondrously doth this holy man penetrate into all our movements and designs ! ” he added, aloud, “ Let the messenger enter.” Perez bowed, and withdrew. During this time, the young prince reclined in listless silence on his seat ; and on his delicate features was an ex¬ pression of weariness which augured but ill of his fitness for the stern business to which the lessons of his wise father were intended to educate his mind. His, indeed, was the age, and his the soul, for pleasure ; the tumult of the camp was to him but a holiday exhibition — the march of an army, the exhilara¬ tion of a spectacle; the court was a banquet — the throne, the best seat at the entertainment. The life of the heir-apparent, to the life of the king-possessive, is as the distinction between enchanting hope and tiresome satiety. The small grey eyes of the friar wandered over each of his royal companions with a keen and penetrating glance, and then settled in the aspect of humility on the rich carpets that bespread the floor ; nor did he again lift them till Perez, re-appearing, admitted to the tent the Israelite, Almamen, accompanied by a female figure, whose long veil, extending from head to foot, could conceal neither the beautiful propor¬ tions nor the trembling agitation of her frame. “ When last, great king, I was admitted to thy presence,” said Almamen, “ thou didst make question of the sincerity and faith of thy servant ; thou didst ask me for a surety of my faith ; thou didst demand a hostage ; and didst refuse further parley Avithout such pledge were yielded to thee. Lo ! I place under thy kingly care this maiden — the sole child of my house — as surety of my truth ; I intrust to thee a life dearer than my own.” “ You liaA'o kept faith Avith us, stranger,” said the king, in that soft and musical voice which well disguised his deep craft and his unrelenting will ; “ and the maiden Avhom you intrust LEILA. 47 to our charge shall be ranked with the ladies of our royal consort.1’ “ Sire,” replied Almamen, with touching earnestness, “ you now hold the power of life and death over all for whom this heart can breathe a prayer or cherish a hope, save for my countrymen and my religion. This solemn pledge between thee and me I render up without scruple, without fear. To thee I give a hostage, from thee I have but a promise.” “ But it is the promise of a king, a Christian, and a knight,” said the king, with dignity rather mild than arro¬ gant ; “ among monarchs, what hostage can be more sacred ? Let this pass : how proceed affairs in the rebel city ? ” “ May this maiden withdraw, ere I answer my lord the king ? ” said Almamen. The young prince started to his feet. “ Shall I conduct this new charge to my mother! ” he asked, in a low voice, addressing Ferdinand. The king half smiled : “ The holy father were a better guide,” he returned, in the same tone. But, though the Dominican heard the hint, he retained his motionless posture ; and Ferdinand, after a momentary gaze on the friar, turned away. “Be it so, Juan,” said he, with a look meant to con¬ vey caution to the prince ; “ Perez shall accompany you to the queen : return the moment your mission is fulfilled — we want your presence.” While this conversation was carried on between the father and son, the Hebrew was whispering, in his sacred tongue, words of comfort and remonstrance to the maiden ; but they appeared to have but little of the desired effect ; and, suddenly falling on his breast, she wound her arms around the Hebrew, whose breast shook with strong emotions, and exclaimed pas¬ sionately, in the same language, “ Oh, my father ! what have I done ? — why send me from thee ? — why intrust thy child to the stranger ! Spare me, spare me ! ” “ Child of my heart ! ” returned the Hebrew, with solemn but tender accents, “ even as Abraham offered up his son, must I offer thee, upon the altars of our faith ; but, 0 Leila ! even as the angel of the Lord forbade the offering, so shall thy youth be spared, and thy years reserved for the glory of generations yet unborn. King of Spain! ” he continued in the Spanish tongue, suddenly and eagerly, “ you are a father ; forgive my weakness, and speed this parting.” Juan approached ; and with respectful courtesy attempted to take the hand of the maiden. 48 LEILA. “ You ? ” said the Israelite, with a dark frown. “ 0 king I the prince is young.” “ Honour knowetli no distinction of age,” answered tlio king. “ What ho, Perez ! accompany this maiden and the prince to the queen’s pavilion.” The sight of the sober years and grave countenance of the attendant seemed to re-assure the Hebrew. He strained Leila in his arms ; printed a kiss upon her forehead without remov¬ ing her veil ; and then, placing her almost in the arms of Perez, turned away to the further end of the tent, and con¬ cealed his face with his hands. The king appeared touched ; but the Dominican gazed upon the whole scene with a sour scowl. Leila still paused for a moment ; and then, as if recovering her self-possession, said, aloud and distinctly, — “ Man deserts me; but I will not forget that God is over all.” Shaking off the hand of the Spaniard, she continued, “ Lead on ; I follow thee ! ” and left the tent with a steady and even majestic step. “And now,” said the king, when alone with the Dominican and Almamen, “ how proceed our hopes ? ” “ Boabdil,” replied the Israelite, “is aroused against both his army and their leader, Muza : the king will not quit the Alhambra ; and this morning, ere I left the city, Muza himself was in the prisons of the palace.” “ How ! ” cried the king, starting from his seat. “ This is my work,” pursued the Hebrew, coldly. “ It is these hands that are shaping for Ferdinand of Spain the keys of Granada.” “ And right kingly shall be your guerdon,” said the Spanish monarch : “ meanwhile, accept this earnest of our favour.” So saying, he took from his breast a chain of massive gold, the links of which wTere curiously inwrought with gems, and extended it to the Israelite. Almamen moved not. A dark flush upon his countenance bespoke the feelings he with difficulty restrained. “ I sell not my foes for gold, great king,” said he, with a stern smile : “ 1 sell my foes to buy the ransom of my friends.” “Churlish!” said Ferdinand, offended: “but speak on, man ! speak on ! ” “ If I place Granada, ere two weeks are past, within thy power, what shall be my reward ? ” “ Thou didst talk to me, when last we met, of immunities to the Jews.” LEILA. 49 Tlio calm Dominican looked up as the king spoke, crossed liimself, and resumed his attitude of humility. “I demand for the people of Israel,” returned Almamen, “ free leave to trade and abide within the city, and follow their callings, subjected only to the same laws and the same imposts as the Christian population.” “ The same laws, and the same imposts ! Humph ! there arc difficulties in the concession. If we refuse ? ” “ Our treaty is ended. Give me back the maiden — you will have no further need of the hostage you demanded : I return to the city, and renew our interviews no more.” Politic and cold-blooded as was the temperament of the great Ferdinand, he had yet the imperious and haughty nature of a prosperous and long-descended king ; and lie bit his lip in deep displeasure at the tone of the dictatorial and stately stranger. “Thou usest plain language, my friend,” said he; “my words can be as rudely spoken. Thou art in my power, and canst return not, save at my permission.” “ I have your royal word, sire, for free entrance and safe egress,” answered Almamen. “ Break it, and Granada is with the Moors till tlio Darro runs red 'with, tho blood of her heroes, and her people strew the vales as the leaves in autumn.” “ Art thou then thyself of the Jewish faith ? ” asked the king. “ If thou art not, wherefore are the outcasts of the world so dear to thee ? ” “ My fathei’s were of that creed, royal Ferdinand ; and if I myself desert their creed, I do not desert their cause. 0 king ! are my terms scorned or accepted ? ” “ I accept them : provided, first, that thou obtainest the exile or death of Muza ; secondly, that within two weeks of this date thou bringest me, along with the chief councillors of Granada, the written treaty of the capitulation, and the keys of the city. Do this : and, though the sole king in Christendom who dares the hazard, I offer to tho Israelites throughout Andalusia the common laws and rights of citizens of Spain ; and to thee I will accord such dignity as may con¬ tent thy ambition.” The Hebrew bowed reverently, and drew from his breast a scroll, which he placed on the table before the king. “ This writing, mighty Ferdinand, contains the articles of our compact.” “ How, knave ! wouldst thou have us commit our royal E 50 LEILA. signature to conditions with such as thou art, to the chance of the public eye. The king’s word is the king’s bond ! ” The Hebrew took up the scroll with imperturbable com¬ posure. “ My child ! ” said he — “ will your majesty summon back my child ? we would depart.” “ A sturdy mendicant this, by the Virgin ! ” muttered the king ; and then, speaking aloud, “ Give me the paper, I will scan it.” Running his eyes hastily over the words, Ferdinand paused a moment, and then drew towards him the implements of writing, signed the scroll, and returned it to Almamen. The Israelite kissed it thrice with oriental veneration, and replaced it in his breast. Ferdinand looked at him hard and curiously. He was a profound reader of men’s characters ; but that of his guest baffled and perplexed him. “ And how, stranger,” said he, gravely, — “ how can I trust that man wrho thus distrusts one king and sells another ! ” “ 0 king ! ” replied Almamen (accustomed from liis youth to commune with and command the possessors of thrones yet more absolute), — “ 0 king! if thou believest me actuated by personal and selfish interests in this our compact, thou hast but to make my service minister to my interest, and the lore of human nature will tell thee that thou hast won a ready and submissive slave. But if thou thinkest I have avowed senti¬ ments less abject, and developed qualities higher than those of the mere bargainer for sordid power, ouglitest thou not to rejoice that chance has thrown into thy way one whose intellect and faculties may bo made thy tool ? If I betray another, that other is my deadly foe. Dost not thou, the lord of armies, betray thine enemy ? The Moor is an enemy bitterer to myself than to thee. Because I betray an enemy, am I unworthy to serve a friend ? If I, a single man, and a stranger to the Moor, can yet command the secrets of palaces, and render vain the counsels of armed men, have I not in that attested that I am one of whom a wise king can make an able servant ? ” “ Thou art a subtle reason ci', my friend,” said Ferdinand, smiling gently. “ Peace go with thee 1 our conference for the time is ended. What ho, Perez ! ” The attendant appeared. “ Thou hast left the maiden with the queen ? ” “ Sire, you have been obeyed.” “ Conduct this stranger to the guard who led him through LEILA. 51 tlie camp. He quits ns under the same pi-otection. Farewell ! yet stay — thou art assured that Muza Ben Abil Gazan is in the prisons of the Moor ? ” “ Yes.” “ Blessed be the Virgin ! ” “ Thou hast heard our conference, Father Tomas ? ” said the king, anxiously, when the Hebrew had withdrawn. “ I have, son.” “ Did thy veins freeze with horror ? ” “ Only when my son signed the scroll. It seemed to me then that I saw the cloven foot of the tempter.” “ Tush, father ! the tempter would have been more wise than to reckon upon a faith which no ink and no parchment can render valid, if the Church absolve the compact. Thou understandest me, father ? ” “ I do. I know your pious heart and well-judging mind.” “ Thou wert right,” resumed the king, musingly, “ when thou didst tell us that these caitiff Jews were waxing strong in the fatness of their substance. They would have equal laws — the insolent blasphemers ! ” “ Son ! ” said the Dominican, with earnest adjuration, “ God, who has prospered your arms and councils, will require at your hands an account of the power entrusted to you. Shall there be no difference between His friends and His foes — His disciples and His crucifiers ? ” “ Priest,” said the king, laying his hand on the monk’s shoulder, and with a saturnine smile upon his countenance, “ were religion silent in this matter, policy has a voice loud enough to make itself heard. The Jews demand equal rights ; when men demand equality with their masters, treason is at work, and justice sharpens her sword. Equality ! these wealthy usurers ! Sacred Virgin ! they would be soon buying up our kingdoms.” The Dominican gazed hard on the king. “ Son, I trust thee,” he said, in a low voice, and glided from the tent. CHAPTER II. THE AMBUSH, THE STRIFE, AND THE CAPTURE. The dawn was slowly breaking over the wide valley of Granada, as Almamen pursued his circuitous and solitary path back to the city. He was now in a dark and entangled LEILA. r»9, hollow, covered with brakes and bushes, from amidst which tall forest trees rose in frequent intervals, gloomy and breath¬ less in the still morning air. As, emerging from this jungle, if so it may be called, the towers of Granada gleamed npon him, a human countenance peered from the shade and Almamen started to sec two dark eyes fixed upon his own. He halted abruptly, and put his hand on his dagger, when a low sharp whistle from the apparition before him was answered around— behind ; and, ere he could draw breath, the Israelite was begirt by a group of Moors, in the garb of peasants. “ Well, my masters,” said Almamen, calmly, as he en¬ countered the wild savage countenances that glared upon him, “ think you there is aught to fear from the solitary santon ? ” “It is the magician,” whispered one man to his neighbour — “ let him pass.” “Nay,” was the answer, “ take him before the captain; wo have orders to seize npon all we meet.” This counsel prevailed ; and gnashing his teeth with secret rage, Almamen found himself hurried along by the peasants through the thickest part of the copse. At length, the pro¬ cession stopped in a semicircular patch of rank sward, in which several head of cattle were quietly grazing, and a yet more numerous troop of peasants reclined around upon the grass. “Whom have we here? ” asked a voice which startled back the dark blood from Almamen’s cheek ; and a Moor of com¬ manding presence rose from the midst of his brethren. “ By the beard of the prophet, it is the false santon ! What dost thou from Granada at this hour ? ” “Noble Muza,” returned Almamen — who, though indeed amazed that one whom he had imagined his victim was thus unaccountably become his judge, retained, at least, the sem¬ blance of composure — “ my answer is to be givon only to my lord the king ; it is his commands that I obey.” “ Thou art aware,” said Muza, frowning, “that thy life is forfeited without appeal ? Whatsoever inmato of Granada is found without the walls between sunrise and sunset, dies the death of a traitor and deserter.” “ The servants of the Alhambra are excepted,” answered the Israelite, without changing countenance. “ Ah ! ” muttered Muza, as a painful and sudden thought seemed to cross him, “ can it bo possible that the rumour of tho city has truth, and that the monarch of Granada is in LEILA. 53 treaty with, tlie foe ? ” He mused a little ; and then, motion¬ ing the Moors to withdraw, he continued aloud, “ Almamen, answer me truly : hast thou sought the Christian camp with any message from the king ? ” “ I have not.” “ Art thou without the walls on the mission of the king ? ” “ If I be so, I am a traitor to the king should I reveal his secret.” “ I doubt thee much, eanton,” said Muza, after a pause ; “ I kuow thee for my enemy, and I do believe thy counsels have poisoned the king’s ear against me, his people and bis duties. But no matter, thy life is spared awhile ; thou remainest with us, and with us shalt thou return to the king.” “But noble Muza - •” “ I have said ! Guard the santon ; mount him upon one of our chargers ; he shall abide with us in our ambush.” While Almamen chafed hi vain at his arrest, all in tho Christian camp was yet still. At length, as the sun began to lift himself above the mountains, first a murmur, and then a din, betokened warlike preparations. Several parties of horse, under gallant and experienced leaders, formed themselves in different quarters, and departed in different ways, on expe¬ ditions of forage, or in the hope of skirmish with the straggling detachments of the enemy. Of these, the best equipped was conducted by the Marquess de Yillena, and his gallant brother, Don Alonzo de Pacheco. In this troop, too, rode many of the best blood of Spain ; for in that cliivalric army, the officers vied with each other who should most eclipse the meaner soldiery in feats of personal valour ; and the name of Yillena drew around him the eager and ardent spirits that pined at the general inactivity of Ferdinand’s politic campaign. The sun, now high in heaven, glittered on the splendid arms and gorgeous pennons of Villena’s company — as, leaving tho camp behind, it entered a rich and wooded district that skirts the mountain barrier of the Vega — the brilliancy of the day, the beauty of the scene, the hope and excitement of enter¬ prise, animated the spirits of the -whole party. In these expeditions strict discipline was often abandoned, from tho certainty that it could be resumed at need. Conversation, gay and loud, interspersed at times with snatches of song, was heard amongst the soldiery ; and in tho nobler group that rode with Villena, there was even less of the proverbial gravity of Spaniards. “Now marquess,” said Don Estcvon de Suzon, “what wager 54- LEILA. sliall he between us, as to which lance this day robs Moorish beauty of the greatest number of its worshippers ? ” ‘‘My falchion against your jennet,” said Don Alonzo de Pacheco, taking up the challenge. “Agreed. But, talking of beauty, were you in the queen's pavilion last night, noble marquess ? it was enriched by a new maiden, whose strange and sudden apparition none can account for. Her eyes would have eclipsed the fatal glance of Cava ; and had I been Rodrigo, I might have lost a crown for her smile.” “Ay,” said Villena, “ I heard of her beauty ; some hostage from one of the traitor Moors, with whom the king (the saints bless him !) bargains for the city. They tell me the prince incurred the queen's grave rebuke for his attentions to the maiden. “ And this morning I saw that fearful Father Tomas steal into the prince’s tent. I wish Don Juan well through the lecture. The monk’s advice is like the algarroba ;* when it is laid up to dry it may be reasonably wholesome, but it is harsh and bitter enough when taken fresh.” At this moment one of the subaltern officers rode up to the marquess, and whispered in his ear. “ Ha ! ” said Villena, “ the Virgin be praised ! Sir knights, booty is at hand. Silence ! close the ranks.” V ith that, mounting a little eminence, and shading his eyes with his hand, the marquess surveyed the plain below ; and, at some distance, he beheld a horde of Moorish peasants driving some cattle into a thick copse. The word was hastily given, the troop dashed on, every voice was hushed, and the clatter of mail, and the sound of hoofs, alone broke the deli¬ cious silence of the noon-day landscape. Ere they reached the copse, the peasants had disappeared within it. The marquess marshalled his men in a semcircle round the trees, and sent on a detachment to the rear, to cut off every egress from the wood. This done the troop dashed within. For the first few yards the space was more open than they had anticipated : but the ground soon grew uneven, rugged, and almost pre¬ cipitous ; and the soil, and the interlaced trees, alike forbade any rapid motion to the horse. Don Alonzo de Pacheco, mounted on a charger whose agile and docile limbs had been tutored to every description of warfare, and himself of light weight, and incomparable horsemanship — dashed on before * The algarroba is a sort of leguminous plant, common in Spain. LEILA. oo the rest. The trees hid him. for a moment ; when, suddenly, a wild yell was heard, and as it ceased, uprose the solitary voice of the Spaniard, shouting “ Santiago , y eierra Esjtana ; St. Jago, and charge, Spain ! ” Each cavalier spurred forward ; when, suddenly, a shower of 'darts and arrows rattled on their armour ; and upsprung from bush, and reeds, and rocky clift, a number of Moors, and with wild shouts swarmed around the Spaniards. “ Back for your lives ! ” cried Yillena, “ we are beset — make for the level ground ! ” He turned — spurred from the thicket, and saw the Paynim foe emerging through the glen, line after line of man and horse ; each Moor leading his slight and fiery steed by the bridle, and leaping on it as he issued from the wood into the plain. Cased in complete mail, his visor down, his lance in his rest, Yillena (accompanied by such of his knights as could disentangle themselves from the Moorish foot) charged upon the foe. A moment of fierce shock passed : on the grottnd lay many a Moor, pierced through by the Christian lance ; and on the other side of the foe, was heard the voice of Yillena — “ St. Jago to the rescue ! ” But the brave marquess stood almost alone, save his faithful chamberlain, Solier. Several of his knights were dismounted, and swarms of Moors, with lifted knives, gathered round them as they lay, searching for the joints of the armour, which might admit a mortal wound. Gradually, one by one, many of Yillena’s comrades joined their leader ; and now the green mantle of Don Alonzo de Pacheco was. seen waving without the copse, and Yillena congratulated himself on the safety of his brother. Just at that moment, a Moorish cavalier spurred from his troop, and met Pacheco in full career. The Moor was not clad, as was the common custom of the Paynim nobles, in the heavy Christian armour. He wore the light flexile mail of the ancient heroes of Araby or Fez. llis turban, which was protected by chains of the finest steel interwoven with the folds, was of the most dazzling white — white, also, were his tunic and short mantle ; on his left arm hung a short circular shield, in his right hand was poised a long and slender lance. As this Moor, mounted on a charger in whose raven hue not a white hair could be detected, dashed forward against Pacheco, both Christian and Moor breathed hard, and re¬ mained passive. Either nation felt it as a sacrilege to thwart the encounter of champions so renowned. “ God save my brave brother ! ” muttered Yillena, anxiously. 56 LEILA. “ Amen,” said those around him ; for all who had over wit¬ nessed the wildest valour in that war, trembled as they recog¬ nised the dazzling robe and coal-black charger of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. Nor was that renowned infidel mated with an unworthy foe. “ Pride of the tournament, and terror of the war,” was the favourite title which the knights and ladies of Castile had bestowed on Don Alonzo do Pacheco. When the Spaniard saw the redoubted Moor approach, ho halted abruptly for a moment, and then, wheeling his horse round, took a wider circuit, to give additional impetus to his charge. The Moor, aware of his purpose, halted also, and awaited the moment of his rush ; when once more lie darted forward, and the combatants met with a skill which called forth a cry of involuntary applause from the Christians them¬ selves. Muza received on the small surface of his shield the ponderous spear of Alonzo, while his own light lance struck upon the helmet of the Christian, and by the exactness of the aim rather than the weight of the blow, made Alonzo reel in his saddle. The lances were thrown aside — tho long broad falchion of the Christian, tho curved Damascus cimitcr of the Moor, gleamed in tho air. They reined their chargers opposite each other in grave and deliberate silence. “ Yield thee, sir knight! ” at- length cried the fierce Moor, “for the motto on my cimitcr declares that if thou meet cst its stroke, thy days are numbered. The sword of the believer is the Key of Heaven and Hell.”* “ False Paynim,” answered Alonzo, in a voice that rang hollow through his helmet, “ a Christian knight is the equal of a Moorish army ! ” Muza made no reply, but left the rein of his charger on his neck ; the noble animal understood the signal, and with a short impatient cry rushed forward at full speed. Alonzo met the charge with Ids falchion upraised, and his whole body covered with his shield : the Moor bent tho Spaniards raised a shout — Muza seemed stricken from his horse. But the blow of the heavy falchion had not touched him : and, seem¬ ingly without an effort, the curved blade of his own cimitcr, gliding by that part of his antagonist’s throat where tho helmet joins the cuirass, passed unresistingly and silent ly through tho joints ; and Alonzo fell at once, and without a groan, from his horse his armour, to all appearance, unpenetrated, while tho blood oozed slow and gurgling from a mortal wound. * SiU'li, tiqs Sulr, i.s tko i>uoticul jdiruso of tho Mahometan divines. LEILA. 57 “ Allah il Allah ! ” shouted Muza, as he joined his friends; “ Lelilies ! Lelilies ! ” echoed tlio Moors ; and ere the Chris¬ tians recovered their dismay, they were engaged hand to hand with their ferocious and swarming foes. It was, indeed, fearful odds ; and it was a marvel to the Spaniards how tho Moors had been enabled to harbour and conceal their numbers in so small a space. Horse and foot alike besot the company of Villena, already sadly reduced; and while the infantry, with desperate and savage fierceness, thrust themselves under tho very bellies of tho chargers, encountering both the hoofs of tho steed and the deadly lance of the rider, in tho hope of finding a vulnerable place for tho sharp Moorish knife, — the horsemen, avoiding the stern grapple of tho Spanish warriors, harassed them by the shaft and lance, — now advancing, now retreating, and performing, with incredible rapidity, tho evolutions of Oriental cavalry. Hut the life and soul of his party was the indomitablo Muza. With a rashness which seemed to tho superstitious Spaniards like the safety of a man protected by magic, lie spurred his ominous black barb into tho very midst of tho serried phalanx which Villena en¬ deavoured to form around him, breaking tho order by his single charge, and from time to time bringing to tho dust some champion of the troop by the noiseless and scarce-seen edire of his fatal cimitor. Villena, in despair alike of fame and life, and gnawed with grief for his brother’s loss, at length resolved to put the last hope of tho battle on his single arm. He gave the signal for retreat; and to protect his troop, remained himself, alone and motionless, on his horse, like a statue of iron. Though not of large frame, ho was esteemed tho best swordsman, next only to Hernando del Pulgar and Gonsalvo do Cordova, in the army ; practised alike in tho heavy assault of the Christian warfare, and tho rapid and dexterous exercise of the Moorish cavalry. There he remained, alone and grim — a lion at bay - while his troops slowly retreated down tho Vega, and their trumpets sounded loud signals of distress, and demands for succour, to such of their companions as might bo within hearing. Vil Iona’s armour defied tho shafts of tho Moors; and as one after one darted towards him, with whirling cimitor and momentary assault, few escaped with impunity from an eye equally quick and a weapon more than equally formidable. Suddenly, a cloud of dust swept towards him ; and Muza, a moment before at tho further end of tho field, came glittering through that cloud, with his white robe LEILA. 58 ■waving arul his right arm bare. Yillena recognised him, set his teeth hard, and putting spurs to his charger, met the rush. Muza swerved aside, just as the heavy falchion swung over liis head, and by a back stroke of his own cimiter, shore through the cuirass just above the hip-joint, and the blood followed the blade. The bravo cavaliers saw the danger of their chief; three of their number darted forward, and camo in time to separate the combatants. Muza stayed not to encounter the now reinforcement ; but speeding across the plain, was soon seen rallying his own scattered cavalry, and pouring them down, in one general body, upon the scanty remnant of the Spaniards. 11 Our day is come ! ” said the good knight Yillena, with bitter resignation. “Nothing is left for us, my friends, but to give up our lives — an example how Spanish warriors should live and die. May God and the Holy Mother forgive our sins, and shorten our purgatory! ” Just as he spoke, a clarion was heard at a distance; and the sharpened senses of the knights caught the ring of advancing hoofs. “ Wo are saved! ” cried Estovon de Suzon, rising on liis stirrups. While he spoke, the dashing stream of the Moorish horse broke over the little band; and Estovon behold bent upon himself the dark eyes and quivering lip of Muza Bon Abil Gazan. That noble knight had never, perhaps, till then known fear; but he felt his heart stand still, as he now stood Opposed to that irresistible foe. “ The dark fiend guides his blade!” thought Do Suzon* “but I was shriven but yostermorn.” The thought rostorod his wonted courage; and ho spurred on to meet the cimiter of the Moor. 1 1 is assault took Muza by surprise. Tho Moor’s horse stum¬ bled over tho ground, cumbered with the dead and slipporv with blood, and his uplifted cimiter could not do moro than break the force of the gigantic arm of De Suzon; as the knight’s falchion bearing down the cimiter, and alighting on tho turban of the Mahometan, clove midway through its folds, arrested only by the admirable temper of tho links of steel which protected it. The shock hurled tho Moor to the ground. He rolled under the saddle-girths of his antagonist. “ Victory and St. dago! ” cried the knight, “ Muza is _ ” The sentence was left eternally unlinished. The blade of the fallen Moor had already pierced Do Suzon’s horse through a mortal but undefended part. It fell, bearing his rider LEILA. 59 with him. A moment, and tho two champions lay together grappling in tho dust; in tho next, tho short knife which tho Moor woro in his girdle, had penetrated tho Christian’s vizor, passing through the brain. To remount his steed, that remained at hand, humbled and motionless, to appear again amongst the thickest of tho fray, was a work no less rapidly accomplished than had been the slaughter of tho unhappy Estevon do Suzon. But now tho fortune of tho day was stopped in a progress hitherto so triumphant to tho Moors. Pricking fast over tho plain, were seen tho glittering horse¬ men of tho Christian reinforcements; and, at the remoter distance, tho royal banner of Spain, indistinctly descried through volumes of dust, denoted that Ferdinand himself was advancing to tho support of his cavaliers. Tho Moors, however, who had themselves received many and mysterious reinforcements, which seemed to spring up liko magic fi’oni tho bosom of tho earth — so suddenly and unexpectedly had they emerged from copso and cleft in that mountainous and entangled neighbourhood — were not unpre¬ pared for a, fresh l’oe. At tho command of tho vigilant Muza, they drew o IT, fell into order, and, seizing, while yet there was time, tho vantage-ground which inequalities of tho soil and tho shelter of tho trees gave to their darts and agile horse, they presented an array which Ponce do Leon himself, who now arrived, deemed it more prudent not to assault. While Villena, in accents almost inarticulate with rage, was urging tho Marquess of Cadiz to advance, Ferdinand, sur¬ rounded by tho (lower of Ids court, arrived at the rear of tho troops ; and, after a few words interchanged with Ponce do Leon, gave tho signal of retreat. When the Moors beheld that noblo soldiery slowly breaking ground, and retiring towards the camp, even Muza could net- control thoir ardour. They rushed forward, harassing the retreat of tho Christians, and delaying the battle by various skirmishes. It was at this time that the headlong valour of Hernando del Pulgar, who had arrived with Ponce do Leon, distinguished itself in feats which yet live in the songs of Spain. Mounted upon an immense steed, and himself of colossal strength, lie was seen charging alone upon the assailants, and scattering numbers to the ground with the sweep of his enormous and two-handed falchion. With a loud voice, ho called on Muza to oppose him; but the Moor, fatigued with slaughter, and (to LEI LA. Heavenly recovorod Irom the shock of his encounter with Do Susson, rosorvcd ho formidable a foo for a future contest. It was at this juncture, while the field was covered with Straggli i 'f? skirmishers, that a small party of Spaniards, in cutting' their way to tho main body of their countrymen through one of the numerous copses held by the enemy, fell in at the oulskirt with an equal number of Moors, and engaged them in a despcrato conflict, hand to hand. Amidst the infidels was one man who took no part in tho affray: at a little dis¬ tance, ho gazed fora few moments upon tho fierce and relentless slaughter of Moor and Christian with a smile of stern and complacent delight; and then taking advantage of the general eon fusion, rode gently, and, as ho hoped, unobserved, away from the scene. Hut he was not destined so quietly to escape. A Spaniard perceived him, and, from something strange and unusual in his garb, judged him one of the Moorish leaders; and presently Almamen, for it was he, beheld before him the uplifted luleiiion ol a foe neither disposed to give quarter nor lo hear parley. Hravo though the Israelite was, many reasons concurred to prevent his taking a personal part against tho soldier of Spain ; and seeing ho should have no chance of explanation, ho fairly put spurs to his horse, and galloped across tho plain, Tho Spaniard followed, gained upon him, and Almamen at length turned, in despair and tho wrath of bis haughty nature. I lave thy will, tool ! ” said he, bet ween his grinded teeth, as he griped his dagger and prepared for tho conflict. It was long and obstinate, for the Spaniard was skilful; and tho Hebrew, wearing no mail, and without any weapon more for¬ midable filian a sharp and well-tempered dagger, was forced to net cautiously on tho defensive. At length, the combatants grappled, and, by a dexterous I hrust, f lie short blade of Alma- men pierced tho t hroat of his antagonist, who fell prostrate to I lie ground. “ I am safe," ho thought, as ho wheeled round his horse; when lo ! Hie Spaniards ho had just left behind, and who had now routed their antagonists, wore upon him. “ ') ield, or dit' ! ’’ cried tho leader of the troop. Almamen glared round ; no succour was at hand. “I am not your enemy,” said he, sullenly, throwing down his weapon — “ bear mo to your camp.” A t runner seized his rein, and, scouring along, t he Spaniards soon reached the retreating army. Meanwhile tho evening darkened, the shout and tho roar LKIbA. 01 grow gradually 1 c'KM lend and loud tho battle bad ceased I, ho stragglers had joined their Hcvoi'a.l standards; and, by tho light of the first star, tho Moorish force, bearing their wounded brethren, and elated with success, re-entered the gates ol Granada, as I lie black charger ol the hero ol t he day, closing ilio rear of tho cavalry, disappeared within the gloomy portals. CHAPTER nr. Til 10 1 1 10 no IN Till'! POW EH Ol'1 THE DREAMER. It was in the same chamber, and nearly at the same hour, in which we lirst presented to the reader Boabdil I'd (loco, that wo are again admitted to tho presence ol that ill-starred monarch, lie was not alone. 1 1 is lavourito slave, Amino, reclined upon the ottomans, gazing with anxious love upon bis thoughtful countenance, as ho leant against the glittering wall by Ilio side of tho easemont, gazing abstractedly on I lio scone below. li'rom alar ho heard the shouts o I tho populace at tho return of Muza, and bursts of artillery confirmed tho tidings of triumph which had already boon borne to bis oar. 11 May tho king livo for over ! ’’ said Amino, timidly ; “his armies have gone lorth to coiupier.” “ lint without their king,'’ replied lloabdil, bitterly, “ and headed by a traitor and a loo. I am meshed in tho nets of an inextricable fate 1 “Oh I” said the slave, with sudden onorgy, as, clasping her hands, she rose I rum her couch, “oh, my lord! would that these humble lips dared utter other words than thoso of love!” . “ Anil what wise counsel would they givo me? asked Boabdil, with a faint smile. “Speak on.” “ I will obey thee, then, even if it displease,” cried Amino; and she rose, her cheek glowing, her eyes sparkling, hoi beautiful form dilated. “ I am a daughter of Granada; I am the beloved of a king; 1 will be truo to my birth and to my fortunes. Boabdil Ml Ohieo, tho last of a lino of heroes, shake off these gloomy fantasies these doubts and dreams that smother the lire of a great nature and a kingly soul ! Awake arise rob Granada ol her Muza be thysell Ivor Muza! T ru st.es t thou to magic and to spells? then grave them on thy breastplate, write them on thy sword, and livo no longer I.Kl LA. 02 Mm Di TOincr of Mio Alhambra ; bocomo tho saviour of iliy pooplo ! ” Hoabdil lurnod, and gazed on tho inspired and beautiful form be loro him with m ingled rmol ions of surprise and shame. “ Out of tho mouth of woman eonmfli my rebuke ! ” said he, sadly. “It is well!’’ “ Pardon mo, pardon mo!” said the slave, falling humbly at Ids knees; “but blame mo not that 1 would have the© worthy of thyself. Wert thou not happier, was not thy heart more light', and thy hope more strong, when at the head of I him' armies, thine own cimitor slew thine own foes, and tho terror of the I loro- King spread, in (lame and slaughter, from the mountains to the seas. Hoabdil! dear as thou art to mo equally as 1 would have loved thee hadst thou been born a low ly fisherman of the Darro, sineothou art a king, I would have thee die a king; even if my own heart broke as l armed ( hoe for thy lat est bat I le ! ” “’rhea k newest not what, thou surest, Amino,” said Hoabdil, “ nor must thou tell w lmt spirits that are not of earth dictate to tho actions, and watch over the destinies, of tho rulers of nations. If 1 delay, if 1 linger, it is not from terror, 1ml from w isdom. The cloud must gather on, dark and slow, ere the moment for the thunderbolt, arrives.” “ On t hine house will the thunderbolt fall, since over thine own house thou sufl'ercst I he cloud to gather,” said a calm and stern voire. Hoabdil started ; and in the chamber stood a third person, in the shape of a woman, past middle ago, and of commanding port and stature. Upon her long-deseemling robes of em¬ broidered purple, wen' thickly woven jewels of royal price; and her dark hair, slightly tinged with gray, parted over a majestic brow, while a small diadem surmounted the folds of the turban. “ My mother!” said Hoalnlil, with some haughty reserve in his tone ; “your presence is unexpected.” “Ay,” answered Ayxu la Hurra, for it was indeed that celebrated, and haughtv, and high-souled queen, “and unwel¬ come; so is ever that of your true friends. But not thus un welcome was the presence of your mother, when her brain and her hand delivered yen from the dungeon in which your stern father had east, year youth, and the dagger and the how l seemed the only keys that would unlock the cell.” “ And better hadst thou left the ill-omened son that thy womb conceived, to die thus in youth, honoured and lamented, LEILA. 63 than to live to manhood, 'wrestling against an evil star and a relentless fate.” “ Son,” said the qneen, gazing upon him with lofty and half disdainful compassion, “ men’s conduct shapes out their own fortunes, and the unlucky are never the valiant and the wise.” “Madam,” said Boabdil, colouring with passion, “I am still a king, nor will I he thus bearded — withdraw ! ” Ere the queen could reply, a eunuch entered, and whis¬ pered Boabdil. “ Ha!” said he, joyfully, stamping his foot, “comes he then to brave the lion in his den ? Let the rebel look to it. Is he alone ? ” “ Alone, great king.” “ Bid my guards wait without ; let the slightest signal summon them. Amine, retire ! Madam - ” “ Son ! ” interrupted Ayxa la Horra, in visible agitation, “ do I guess aright ? is the brave Muza — the sole bulwark and hope of Granada — whom unjustly thou wouldst last night have placed in chains — (chains ! great prophet ! is it thus a king should reward his heroes!) — is, I say, Muza here? and wilt thou make him the victim of his own generous trust ? ” “ Retire, woman ? ” said Boabdil, sullenly. “ I will not, save by force ! I resisted a fiercer soul than thine when I saved thee from thy father.” “ Remain, then, if thou wilt, and learn how kings can punish traitors. Mesnour, admit the hero of Granada.” Amine had vanished. Boabdil seated himself on the cushions — his face calm but pale. The queen stood erect at a little distance, her arms folded on her breast, and her aspect knit and resolute. In a few moments Muza entered, alone. He approached the king with the profound salutation of oriental obeisance ; and then stood before him with downcast eyes, in an attitude from which respect could not divorce a natural dignity and pride of mien. “ Prince,” said Boabdil, after a moment’s pause, “yester- morn, when I sent for thee, thou didst brave my orders. Even in mine own Alhambra thy minions broke out in mutiny ; they surrounded the fortress, in which thou wert to wait my pleasure; they intercepted, they insulted, they drove back my guards ; they stormed the towers protected by the banner of thy king. The governor, a coward or a traitor, rendered thee to the rebellious crowd. Was this all ? No, by the prophet ! Thou, by right my captive, didst leave thy prison but to head LEILA. 64 mine armies. And tins day, the traitor subject' — the secret foe — was tlio leader of the people who defy a king. This night thou comest to me unsought. Thou feelest secure from my just wrath, even in my palace. Thine insolence blinds and betrays thee. Man, thou art in my power ! Ho, there ! ” As the king spoko, he rose; and, presently, the arcades at the back of the pavilion were darkened by long lines of the Ethiopian guard, each of height which, beside the slight Moorish race, appeared gigantic; stolid and passionless ma¬ chines, to execute, without thought, the bloodiest or the lightest caprice of despotism. There they stood ; their silver breast-plates and long car-rings, contrasting their dusky skins ; and bearing, over their shoulders, immense clubs studded with brazen nails. A little advanced from the rest, stood the captain, with the fatal bowstring hanging carelessly on his arm, and his eyes intent to catch the slightest gesture of the king. “ Behold ! ” said Boabdil to his prisoner. “ I do ; and am prepared for what I have foreseen.” The queen grew pale, but continued silent. Muza resumed — “ Lord of tho faithful ! ” said he, “ if yestermorn I had acted otherwise, it would have been to the ruin of thy throne and our common race. Tho fierce Zcgris suspected and learned my capture. They summoned the troops— they de¬ livered me, it was true. At that time had I reasoned with them, it would have been as drops upon a flame. They ivere bent on besieging thy palace, perhaps upon demanding thy abdication. .1. could not stifle their firry, but I could direct it. In tho moment of passion, I led them from rebellion against our common king to victory against our common foe. That duty done, I come unscathed from the sword of the Christian to bare my neck to the bowstring of my friend. Alone, un¬ tracked, unsuspected, I have entered thy palace, to prove to tlu> sovereign of Granada, that the defendant of his throne is not a rebel to his will. Now summon tho guards — I have done.” “ Muza ! ” said Boabdil, in a soffened voice, while he shaded his face with his hand, “ ive played together as children, and 1 have loved thee well: my kingdom even now, perchance, is passing from me, but I could almost be reconciled to that loss, if 1 thought thy loyalty had not left me.” “ Dost thou, in truth, suspect the faith of Muza Ben Abil Gazan?” said the Moorish prince, in a tono of surprise and LEILA. 65 sorrow. Unhappy king ! “ I deemed that my services, and not my defection, made my crime.” “ Why do my people hate me ? why do my armies menace ? ” said Boabdil, evasively ; “ why should a subject possess that allegiance which a king cannot obtain ? ” “ Because,” replied Muza, boldly, “ the king has delegated to a subject the command he should himself assume. Oh, Boabdil ! ” he continued, passionately — “ friend of my boy¬ hood, ere the evil days came upon us, — gladly would I sink to rest beneath the dark waves of yonder river, if thy arm and brain would fill up my place amongst the warriors of Granada. And think not I say this only from our boyish love ; think not I have placed my life in thy hands only from that servile loyalty to a single man, which the false chivalry of Christen¬ dom imposes as a sacred creed upon its knights and nobles. But I speak and act but from one principle — to save the re¬ ligion of my father and the land of my birth : for this I havo risked my life against the foe ; for this I surrender my life to the sovereign of my country. Granada may yet survive, if monarch and people unite together. Granada is lost for ever, if her children, at this fatal hour, are divided against them¬ selves. If, then, I, 0 Boabdil ! am the true obstacle to thy league with thine own subjects, give me at once to the bow¬ string, and my sole prayer shall be for the last remnant of the Moorish name, and the last monarch of the Moorish dynasty.” “ My son, my son ! art thou convinced at last ? ” cried the queen, struggling with her tears ; for she was one who wept easily at heroic sentiments, but never at the softer sorrows, or from the more womanly emotions. Boabdil lifted his head with a vain and momentary attempt at pride ; his eye glanced from his mother to his friend, and his better feelings gushed upon him with irresistible force : he threw himself into Muza’s arms, “ Forgive me,” he said, in broken accents, “ forgive me 1 How could I have wronged thee thus ? Yes,” he continued, as he started from the noble breast on which for a moment he indulged no ungenerous weakness, — “ yes, prince, your ex¬ ample shames, but it fires me. Granada henceforth shall have two chieftains ; and if I be jealous of thee, it shall be from an emulation thou canst not blame. Guards, retire. Mesnour ! ho, Mesnour ! Proclaim at daybreak that I myself will review the troops in the Vivarrambla. Yet” — and, as ho spoke, his voice faltered, and his brow became overcast, “ yet, S' LEILA. 66 stay; seek me thyself at day-break, and t will give then my commands.” “Oh, my son! why hesitate?” cried the qnoon, “why waver? Prosecute thine own kingly designs, and - ” “Hush, madam,” said Boabdil, regaining his customary cold composure; “and sinco you are now satisfied with year son, leave me alono with Muza.” The qneen sighed heavily; but there was something in tho calm of Boabdil which chilled and awed her more than his bursts of passion. She drew her veil around her, and passed slowly and reluctantly from the chamber. “ Muza,” said Boabdil, when alono with tho prince, and fixing hie large and thought ful eyes upon the dark orbs of his companion, — “when, in our younger days, wo conversed together, do you remember how often that converse turned upon those solemn and mysterious themes to which the sages of our ancestral land directed their deepest lore; the enigmas of the stars — tho science of fate — the wild researches into tho clouded future, which hides the destinies of nations and of men ? Thon rememberest, Muza, that to such studies mine own vicissitudes and sorrows, even in childhood — the st range fortunes which gave mo in my cradle tho epithet of El Zogoybi — the ominous predictions of santons and astrologers ns to the trials of my earthly fate, — all contributed to incline my soul. Thou didst not despise those earnest musings, nor our ancestral lore, though, unlike me, over more inclined to action than to contemplation, that which t hou mightest believe, had little influence upon what thou didst design. With mo it hath been otherwise : every event of life hath conspired to feed my early prepossessions ; and, in this awful crisis of my fate, L have placed myself and my throne rather under tho guardianship of spirits than of men. This alono has recon¬ ciled mo to inaction— to tho torpor of the Alhambra to tho mutinies of my people. 1 have smiled, when foes surrounded and friends deserted mo, secure of the aid at last — if I bided but the fortunate hour of the charms of protecting spirits, and the swords of the invisible creation. Thon wondorest what this should lead to. Listen! Two nights since (and tho king shuddered) l was with tho dead! My father ap¬ peared before me not as 1 knew him in life gaunt and terrible, full of the vigour of health, and the strength of kingly empire, and of fierce passion- but wan, calm, shadowy. From lips on which. A/.rael had set his liv id seal, he bade mo beware of thee /” LEILA. 07 Tho king ceased suddenly ; and sought to read on tho faco of Muza tho effect his words produced. But tho proud and swarthy features of tho Moor evinced no pang of conscienco ; a slight smile of pity might have crossed his lip for a moment, but it vanished ere tho king could detect it. Boabdil con¬ tinued. “ Under tho influence of this warning, I issued tho order for thy arrest. Let this paBS — I resumo my tale. 1 attempted to throw myself at tho spectre’s feet — it glided from mo, mo¬ tionless and impalpable. 1 asked tho Dead One if he forgave his unhappy son tho sin of rebellion — alas! too well requited even upon earth. And tho voice again came forth, and bade mo keep tho crown that I had gained, as tho solo atonement for the past. Then again 1 asked, whether tho hour for action had arrived ? and tho Bpcctre, whilo it faded gradually into air, answered, ‘ No 1 ’ ‘ Oh 1 ’ I exclaimed, ‘ ore thou loavest me, bo one sign accorded mo, that I have not dreamt this vision; and givo me, I pray thee, noto and warning, when tho evil star of Boabdil shall withhold its influence, and ho may strike, without resistance from the Powers above, for his glory and his throne.’ ‘ The sign and tho warning are be¬ queathed thoo,’ answered tho ghostly image. It vanished, — thick darkness fell around ; and, when once more tho light of the lamps wo boro became visible, behold there stood before mo a skeleton, in tho regal robe of tho kings of Granada, and on its grisly head was tho imperial diadem. With one hand raised, it pointed to tho opposite wall, wherein burned, like an orb of gloomy fire, a broad dial plate, on which were graven these words, ‘ hew a he — fear not — arm ! ’ Tho linger of tho dial moved rapidly round, and rested at the word, beware. From that hour to tho one in which 1 last beheld it, it hath not moved. Muza, tho talc is done; wilt thou visit with mo this enchanted chamber, and sec if tho hour bo come ? ” “Commander of tho faithful,” said Muza, “tho story is dread and awful. But pardon thy friend — wort thou alone, or was tho santon Almamen thy companion ? ” “ Why tho question?” said Boabdil, evasively, and slightly colouring. “1 fear his truth,” answered Muz a; “tho Christian king conquers more foes by cralt than force : and his spies are more deadly than bis warriors. Wherefore this caution against me, but (pardon me) for thine own undoing? Were I a traitor, could Ferdinand himself have endangered thy v U ns LKlhA. e row n so i mini i km 1 1 ly ns Urn reve'iigo of 1. ho lender of I hi no own armies P W hy, loo, t his desire lo keep tlieo inactive P for the bravo ('very hour hath its elinneoH; but, for us, every hour increases our peril. If wo soi/.e not the present time, our supplies are out off,- and famine is a. foe all our valour cannot resist. This demise who is lie? a stranger, not of onr race and blood. Hut. this morning I found him without the walls, net far from tin' Spaniard's camp." “ I lad ” cried the king, quickly, 11 and what said he P” “ Little, but. in hints; sheltering himself, by loose hints, under I by name." “ lie I what dared be own? — Mura, what were those hints P" The Moor hero recounted the interview with Almanien, his detention, Ids inactivity in the buttle, ami Ids subsequent, rapture by the Spaniards. The king listened attentively, and regained his composure. “ It. is a strange and awful man,’1 said he, after a pause, "(luards and chains will not. detain him. Kro long ho will return, lbit thou, at. least, Mu/.a, are lumeeforth free, alike from the suspicion of the living, mid the warnings of the dead. No, my friend," continued Uoabdil, with generous warmth; '* it is belter to lose a crown, to loso life' itself, than confi¬ dence in a heart, like' thine, tleiino, led. us inspe'et. this magic tabled ; perehane'o -ami how my heart boumls as I utter tho hope ! the' hour may have ftmvoil." (Ill A PTE II IV. A nu.m; virw or tub i'hak.utkk ok ihuuWi.. miv\ in this ei.wiin.Ns of' ms tiiaovKu. Mr:. a Hi n Anti. (Iav.an returne'd from his visit to Honlulil with a though! fill ami eli'pressod spirit.. 1 1 is arguments had fmli'il te> induce' t be' king to eliudn in I be' command of the' magic dial, which still forbmh' him te' arm against, the' invadqrs ; and although the' royal favour was no lemge'r witlulrawn from himself, tin' Moor fi'lt t but sue'b favour bung u pern a ea priciims and uncertain ti’imri' se' long as bis smeivigti was the' slave of superstition or imposture. lint that noble warrior, whoso character the ail \ easily of his I'ountry hail singularly ewalte'il and ridineil, e'von while increasing its natural lieivi'iicss, thought little' of himself in comparison with the evils and LEILA. CO mitt fortunes which tho king's continued irresolution must bring upon Granatin. “So bravo, and yet so weak (tlvougbt bo); so weak, and yet so obstinato ; so wiso a roasonor, yot so onululons a dupo! Unlmppy lloabdil ! tho stars, iiulood, soom to light against thoo, and tlioir inlluonees at thy birth marred all thy gifts and virtues with eounteraefing infirmity and error." Mu/, a, — more perhaps than any subject in Granada, did justice to tho real character of tho king; hut even ho was unable to penetrate all its complicated ami laiont mysteries. Boabdil Ml Chico was no ordinary man : bis affections were warm and generous, his nature calm and gentle; and, though early power, and the painful experience of a mutinous people and ungrateful court, had imparted to that nature un irasci¬ bility of temper, and a quickness of suspicion, foreign to its earlier soil, ho was easily led back to generosity and justice'; and, if warm in resentment, was magnanimous m forgiveness. Deeply accomplished in all tho learning of his race and time, he was — in books, at least a philosopher; and, indeed, his attachment to tho abstruser studies was one of tho main causes which unfitted him for his present station. But it was the circumstances attendant on his birth and childhood that had perverted his keen and graceful intellect to morbid indulgence in mystic reveries, and all tho doubt, fear, and irresolution of a man who pushes metaphysics into the super¬ natural world. Dark prophecies accumulated omens over his head ; men united in considering him born to disastrous des¬ tinies. Whonever ho had sought to wrestle against hostile circumstances, some seemingly accidental cause, sudden and unforeseen, had blasted tho labours of his most vigorous energy,- — tho fruit of his most deliberate wisdom. Thus, by degrees, a gloomy and despairing cloud sell led over his mind ; but, secretly sceptical of the Mahometan creed, and too proud and sanguine to resign himself wholly and passively to the doctrine of inevitable predestination, ho sought to contend against tho machinations of hostile demons and boding stars, not by human but spiritual agencies. Collecting around him the seers and magicians of orient-fanaticism, he lived in tho visions of another world; and, flattered by tho promises of impostors or dreamers, and deceived by his own subtle and brooding tendencies of mind, if was amongst spells and cabala, that he thought to draw forth the mighty secret, which was to free him from tho meshes of the preternatural enemies of his fortune, and leave him tho freedom of other men to 70 LEILA. J wrestle, with equal chances, against peril and adversities. It was thus, that Almamen had won the mastery over his mind ; and, though upon matters of common and earthly import, or solid learning, Boabdil could contend with sages, upon those of superstition ho could be fooled by a child, lie was, in this, a kind of Hamlet : formed, under prosperous and serene fortunes, to render blessings and reap renown ; but over ■whom the chilling shadow of another world had fallen — whose soul curdled back into itself — whose life had been separated from that of the herd — whom doubts and awe drew back, while circumstances impelled onward — whom a supernatural doom invested with a peculiar philosophy, not of human effect and cause — and who, with every gift that could ennoble and adorn, was suddenly palsied into that mortal imbecility, which is almost ever the result of mortal visitings into the haunted regions of the Ghostly and Unknown. The gloomier colour¬ ings of his mind had been deepened, too, by secret remorse. For the preservation of his own life, constantly threatened by his unnatural predecessor, he had been early driven into rebellion against his father. In age, infirmity, and blindness, that fierce king had been made a prisoner at Salobrena by his brother, El Zagal, Boabdil’s partner in rebellion ; and dying suddenly, El Zagal was suspected of his murder. Though Boabdil was innocent of such a crime, he felt himself guilty of the causes which led to it ; and a dark memory, resting upon his conscience, served to augment his superstition and enervate the vigour of his resolves : for, of all things that make men dreamers, none is so effectual as remorse operating upon a thoughtful temperament. Revolving the character of his sovereign, and sadly fore¬ boding the ruin of his country, the young hero of Granada pursued his way, until his steps, almost unconsciously, led him towards the abode of Leila. He scaled the walls of the garden as before — he neared the house. All -was silent and deserted : his signal was unanswered — his murmured sonsr brought no grateful light to the lattice, no fairy footstep to the balcony. Dejected, and sad of heart, he retired from the spot; and, returning home, sought a couch, to which even ill the fatigue and excitement he had undergone, could not win the forgetfulness of slumber. The mystery that wrapt the maiden of his homage, the rareness of their interviews, and the wrild and poetical romance that made a very principle of the chivalry of the Spanish Moors, had imparted to Muza’s love for Leila a possionato dcptlq which, at this day, and iu LEILA. 71 more enervated climes, is unknown to the Mahometan lover. His keenest inquiries had been unable to pierce the secret of her birth and station. Little of the inmates of that guarded and lonely house was known in the neighbourhood : the only one ever seen without its walls was an old man of the Jewish faith, supposed to be a superintendent of the foreign slaves (for no Mahometan slave would have been subjected to the insult of submission to a Jew); and though there were ru¬ mours of the vast wealth and gorgeous luxury within the mansion, it was supposed the abode of some Moorish emir absent from the city — and the interest of the gossips was at this time absorbed in more weighty matters than the affairs of a neighbour. But when, the next eve, and the next, Muza returned to the spot equally in vain, his impatience and alarm could no longer bo restrained ; he resolved to lie in watch by the portals of the house night and day, until, at least, he could discover some one of the inmates, -whom he could ques¬ tion of his love, and perhaps bribe to his service. As with this resolution he was hovering round the mansion, he beheld, stealing fi'om a small door in one of the low wings of the house, a bended and decrepit form : it supported its steps upon a staff ; and, as now entering the garden, it stooped by the side of a fountain to cull flowers and herbs by the light of the moon, the Moor almost started to behold a countenance which resembled that of some ghoul or vampire haunting the places of the dead. He smiled at liis own fear ; and, with a quick and stealthy pace, hastened through the trees, and, gaining the spot where the old man bent, placed his hand on his shoulder ere his presence was perceived. Xirnen — for it was he — -looked round eagerly, and a faint cry of terror broke from his lips. “ Hush!” said the Moor; “fear me not, I am a friend. Thou art old, man — gold is ever welcome to the aged.” As lie spoke, ho dropped several broad pieces into the breast of the Jew, whose ghastly features gave forth a yet more ghastly smile, as he received the gift, and mumbled forth, “ Charitable young man ! generous, benevolent, excellent young man ! ” “ Now then,” said Muza, “ tell me — you belong to this house — Leila, the maiden within — tell me of her — is she well?” “ I trust so,” returned the Jew 3 “ I trust so, noble paster.’’ “ Tl'ust sq !, know you not of her state ? ” LEILA “ Not I ; for many nights I have not seen her, excellent sir,” answered Ximen ; “ she hath left Granada, she hath gone. Yon waste your time, and mar your precious health amidst these nightly dews : they are unwholesome, very un¬ wholesome, at the time of the new moon.” “ Gone! ” echoed the Moor; “ left Granada! — woo is me! — and whither ? there, there, more gold for yon, — old man, tell mo whither ? ” “ Alas ! I know not, most magnanimous young man ; I am hut a servant — I know nothing.” “ When will she return ? ” “ I cannot tell thee.” “ Who is thy master? who owns yon mansion ? ” Nimen’s countenance fell ; ho looked round in doubt and fear, and then, after a short pause, answered, — “ A wealthy man, good sir — a Moor of Africa; but ho hath also gono ; ho but seldom visits us; Granada is not so peaceful a residence as it was, — I would go too, if I could.” Muza released his hold of Ximen, who gazed at the Moor’s working countenance with a malignant smile — for Ximen hated all men. “ Thou hast dono with me, young warrior? Pleasant dreams to thee under the new moon — thou liadst best retire to thy bed. Farewell ! bless thy charity to the poor old man ! ” Muza hoard him not ; ho romained motionless for somo moments ; and then with a heavy sigh, ns that of one who has gained the mastery of himself after a bitter struggle, ho said, half aloud, “Allah bo with thee, Leila! Granada now is my only mistress.” CHAPTER V. iioajidil’s kcconci i,iatt on with ms rEO'.’LK. Sfwei: at, days lmd elapsed without any encounter between Moor and Christian; for Ferdinand’s cold and sober policy, warned by the loss he lmil sustained in the ambush of Muza, was now bent on preserving rigorous restraint upon the fiery spirits he commanded. He forbade all parties of skirmish, in which the Moors, indeed, had usually gained the advantage, ami contented himself with occupying all the passes through which provisions could arrive at the besieged city, lie com- LEILA. 73 menced strong fortifications around liis camp ; and, forbidding assault on the Moors, defied it against himself. Meanwhile, Almamen had not returned to Granada. No tidings of his fate reached the king ; and his prolonged dis¬ appearance began to produce visible and salutary effect upon the long dormant energies of Boabdil. The counsels of Muza, the exhortations of the queen-mothei’, the enthusiasm of his mistress, Amine, uncounteracted by the arts of the magician, aroused the torpid lion of his nature. But still his army and his subjects murmured against him ; and his appearance in the Vivarrambla might, possibly, be the signal of revolt. It was at this time that a most fortunate circumstance at once restored to him the confidence and affections of his people. His stern uncle, El Zagal — once a rival for his crown, and whose daring valour, mature age, and military sagacity, had won him a powerful party within the city — had been, some months since, conquered by Ferdinand ; and, in yielding the possessions lie held, had been rewarded with a barren and dependent principality. His defeat, far from benefiting Boabdil, had exasperated the Moors against their king. “ For,” said they, almost with one voice, “ the brave El Zagal never would have succumbed had Boabdil properly supported his arms.” And it was the popular dis¬ content and rage at El Zagal’s defeal, which had, indeed, served Boabdil with a reasonable excuse for shutting himself in the strong fortress of the Alhambra. It now happened, that El Zagal, whose dominant passion was hatred of his nephew, and whose fierce nature chafed at its present cage, resolved, in his old age, to blast all his former fame by a signal treason to his country. Forgetting everything but revenge against his nephew, whom he was resolved should share his own ruin, he ai'med his subjects, crossed the country, and appeared at the head of a gallant troop in the Spanish camp, an ally with Ferdinand against Granada. When this was heard by the Moors, it is impossible to conceive their indig¬ nant wrath : the crime of El Zagal produced an instantaneous reaction in favour of Boabdil ; the crowd surrounded the Alhambra, and with prayers and tears entreated the forgive¬ ness of the king. This event completed the conquest of Boabdil over his own irresolution. He ordained an assembly of the wholo army in the broad space of the Vivarrambla : and when at break of day he appeared in full armour in the square, with Muza at his right hand, himself in the flower of youthful beauty, and proud to f^ql onQQ move a hero and a 74 LEILA. king, the joy of the people knew no limit ; the air was rent with cries of “ Long live Boabdil el Chico ! ” and the young monarch, turning to Muza, with his soul upon his brow, exclaimed, “ The hour has come — I am no longer El Zogoybi ! ” CHAPTER VI. LEILA. — HER NEW LOVER. — PORTRAIT OF THE FIRST INQUISITOR OF SPAIN. - THE CHALICE RETURNED TO THE LIPS OF ALMAMEN. "While thus the state of events within Granada, the course of our story transports us back to the Christian camp. It was in one of a long line of tents, that skirted the pavilion of Isabel, and was appropriated to the ladies attendant on the royal presence, that a young female sate alone. The dusk of evening already gathered around, and only the outline of her form and features was visible. But even that, imperfectly seen, — the dejected attitude of the form, the drooping head, the hands clasped upon the knees, — might have sufficed to denote the melancholy nature of the reverie which the maid indulged. “ Ah,” thought she, “ to what danger am I exposed ! If my father, if my lover dreamed of the persecution to which their poor Leila is abandoned ! ” A few teai’S, large and bitter, broke from her eyes, and stole unheeded down her cheek. At that moment, the deep and musical chime of a bell wTas heard summoning the chiefs of the army to prayer ; for Ferdinand invested all his worldly schemes with a religious covering, and to his politic war he sought to give the imposing character of a sacred crusade. “ That sound,” thought she, sinking on her knees, “ sum¬ mons the Nazarenes to the presence of their God. It reminds me, a captive by the waters of Babylon, that God is ever with the friendless. Oh ! succour and defend me, Thou who didst look of old upon Ruth standing amidst the corn, and didst watch over thy chosen people in tho hungry wilderness, and in the stranger’s land.” Wrapt in her mute and passionate devotions, Leila remained long in her touching posture. Tho bell had ceased ; all with¬ out was hushed and still — when the drapery, stretched across tho opening of the tent, was lifted, and a young Spaniard, cloaked, from head to foot, in a long mantle, stood within thn LEILA. 75 space. He gazed, in silence, upon the kneeling maiden; nor ■was it until she rose that he mado his presenco audible. “ Ah, fairest ! ” said he, then, as ho attempted to take her hand, “thou wilt not answer my letters — see me, then, at thy feet. It is thou who teachest me to kneel.” “ You, prince ! ” said Leila, agitated, and in great and evident fear. “ Why harass and insult me thus ? Am I not sacred as a hostage and a charge? and arc name, honour, peace, and all that woman is taught to hold most dear, to bo thus robbed from me, under the pretext of a love, dishonouring to thee, and an insult to myself ? ” “ Sweet one,” answered Don Juan, with a slight laugh, “ thou has learned, within yonder walls, a creed of morals little known to Moorish maidens, if fame belies them not. Suffer mo to teach thee easier morality and sounder logic. 1 1 is no dishonour to a Christian princo to adoro beauty like thine ; it is no insult to a maiden hostage if tlio Infant of Spain proffer her the homage of his heart. But wo waste time. Spies, and envious tongues, and vigilant eyes, are around us ; and it is not often that I can baffle them, as 1 have done now. Fairest, hear me!” and this time ho suc¬ ceeded in seizing the hand, which vainly struggled against h is clasp. “ Nay, why so coy ? what can female heart desire, that my love cannot shower upon thine ? Speak but the word, enchanting maiden, and I will bear thee from those scenes, unseemly to thy gentle eyes. Amidst the pavilions of princes shalt thou roposo ; and, amidst gardens of the orange and the rose, shalt thou liston to the vows of thine adorer. Surely, in these arms thou wilt not pine for a barbarous home, and a fated city. And if thy pride, swoot maiden, deafen thee to the voice of nature, learn that tlio haughtiest dames of Spain would bend, in envious court, to the beloved of their future king. This night — listen to mo — I say, listen — this night I will bear thee hence ! Bo but mine, and no matter, whether heretic or infidel, or whatever the priests stylo thee, neither church nor king shall tear thee from the bosom of thy lover.” “ It is well spoken, son of tlio Most Christian Monarch ! ” said a deep voice ; and the Dominican, Tomas do Torquemada, stood before the prince. Juan, as if struck by a thunderbolt, released his hold, and, staggering back a few paces, seemed to cower, abashed and humbled, before the eye of the priest, as it glared upon him through the gathering dai’kness. 76 LEILA. “ Prince,” said tho friar, after a pause, “ not to time will our holy church attribute this crime; thy pious heart hath been betrayed by sorcery. Retire ! ” “ Father,” said the prince, — in a tono into which, despite his awo of that terrible man, the first grand inquisitor of Spain, his libertine spirit involuntarily forced itself, in a half- latent raillery, — “sorcery of eyes like those bewitched the wiso son of a more pious sire than even Ferdinand of Arragon.” “ lie blasphemes ! ” muttered tho monk, “ Prince, bewaro ! you know not what yon do.” The prince lingered ; and then, as if aware that ho must yield, gathered his cloak round him, and left tho tent without reply. Palo and trembling, — with fears no less felt, perhaps, though more vague and perplexed, than those from which she had just been delivered, — Leila stood before tho monk. “ 13e scatod, daughter of tho faithless,” said Torquemada, “we would converse with thoe: and, as thou vainest — 1 say not thy soul, for, alas! of that precious treasure thou art not conscious — but mark mo, woman ! as thou prizest the safety of those delioato limbs, and that wanton beauty, answer truly what I shall ask tlioo. Tho man who brought thee hither— is 1m, in truth, thy father? ” “Alas!” answered Leila, almost fainting with terror at this rude and menacing address, “ho is, in truth, mine only parent.” “ And his faith — his religion ? ” “ I havo nover behold him pray.” “ Hem ! ho never prays — a noticcablo fact. Ilut of what soct, what creed, does ho profess himself?” “ I cannot answer theo.” “ Nay, there bo means that may wring from tlioo an answer. Maiden, bo not so stubborn ; speak ! thinkest thou ho serves the temple of tho Mahometan ? ” “No ! oh, no ! ” answered poor Leila, eagerly, deeming that her reply, in this, at least, would be acceptable. “ I lc disow ns, 1m scorns, 1m abhors, tho Moorish faith — even (slm added) with too fierce a zeal.” “ Thou dost not share that zeal, then ? Well, worships ho in BOcret after tho Christian rites ? ” Leila hung her head, and answered not. “I understand thy silence. And in what belief, maiden, vert thou reared beneath his roof? ” LEILA. 77 “ I know not what it is called among men,” answered Loila, with firmness, “ but it is the faith of the one Gon, who pro¬ tects his chosen, and shall avenge their wrongs — the God who made earth and heaven ; and who, in an idolatrous and be¬ nighted world, transmitted the knoAvlcdgo of himself and his holy laws, from age to age, through the channel of one solitary people, in the plains of Palestine, and by the waters of the Hebron.” “ And in that faith thou wert trained, maiden, by thy father ? ” said the Dominican, calmly. “ I am satisfied. Rest here, in peaco : we may meet again, soon.” The last words were spoken with a soft and tranquil smile • — a smile in which glazing eyes and agonising hearts had often beheld the ghastly omen of the tortnro and the stake. On quitting the unfortunate Leila, the monk took his way towards the neighbouring tent of Ferdinand. But, cro ho reached it, a new thought seemed to strike the holy man ; ho altered the direction of his steps, and gained ono of those little shrinos common in catholic countries, and which had been hastily built of wood, in the centre of a small copse, and by the side of a brawling rivulet, towards the back of the king’s pavilion. But one solitary sentry, at the entrance of the copse, guarded the consecrated place ; and its exceeding loneliness and quiet were a grateful contrast to the animated world of the surrounding camp. The monk entered the shrine, and fell down on his knees before an imago of the Virgin, rudely sculptured, indeed, but richly decorated. “ Ah, Holy Mother ! ” groaned this singular man, “ support mo in the trial to which I am appointed. Thou knowest that tho glory of thy blessed Son is the sole object for which I live, and move, and havo my being ; but at times, alas ! the spirit is infected with the weakness of the flesh. Ora pro nobis, O Mother of mercy ! Verily, oftentimes my heart sinks within mo when it is mine to vindicate the honour of thy holy cause against tho young and tho tondcr, tho aged and the decrepit. But what aro beauty and youth, grey hairs aud trembling knees, in the oyo of the Creator P Miserable worms aro we all ; nor is thero anything acceptable in the Divine sight, but the hearts of the faithful. Youth without faith, age without belief, purity without grace, virtue without holi¬ ness, are only more hideous by their seeming beauty —whited sepulchres, glittering rottenness. 1 know this — 1 know it ; but the human man is strong within me. Strengthen me, that I pluck it out ; so that, by diligent and constant struggle 78 LEILA. with tlac feeble Adam, thy servant may be reduced into a more machine, to punish the godless and advance the Church.” Here sobs and tears choked the speech of the Dominican ; he grovelled in the dust, he tore his hair, he howled aloud : the agony was fierce upon him. At length, he drew from his robe a whip, composed of several thongs, studded with small and sharp nails ; and, stripping his gown, and the shirt of hair worn underneath, over his shoulders, applied the scourge to the naked flesh, with a fury which soon covered the green sward with the thick and clotted blood. The exhaustion which followed this terrible penance seemed to restore the senses of the stern fanatic. A smile broke over the features, that bodily pain only released from the anguished expression of mental and visionary struggles ; and, when he rose, and drew tho hair-cloth shirt over the lacerated and quivering flesh, he said, — “ Now hast thou deigned to comfort and visit me, O pitying Mother ; and, even as by these austerities against this miserable body, is the spirit relieved and soothed, so dost thou typify and betoken, that men’s bodies are not to be spared by those wdio seek to save souls, and bring the nations of the earth into thy fold.” With that thought the countenance of Torquomada ro- assumed its wonted rigid and passionless composure ; and, replacing the scourge, yet clotted with blood, in his bosom, he pursued his way to the royal tent. He found Ferdinand poring over the accounts of the vast expenses of his militai’y preparations, which he had just received from his treasurer ; and the brow of the thrifty, though osten¬ tatious monarch, was greatly overcast by the examination. “ By the Bulls of Guisando!” said the king, gravely, “ I purchase the salvation of my army, in this holy war, at a marvellous heavy price ; and if the infidels hold out much longer, we shall have to pawn our very patrimony of Arragon.” “ Son,” answered the Dominican, “to purposes liko thine, fear not that Providence itself will supply the worldly means. But why doubtest thou ? are not the means within thy reach ? It is just that thou alone shouldst not support tho wars by which Christendom is glorified. Are there not others ? ” “ I know Avkat thou wouldst say, father,” interrupted tho king, quickly, — “ thou wouldst observe that my brother monarchs should assist mo with arms and treasure. Most just. But they aro avaricious and envious, Tomas; and Mammon hath corrupted them.” “ Nay, not to kings pointed my thought.” LEU, A. 79 “ Well, then,” rammed tho king, impatiently, “ them wouldst imply that mine own knights and nobles should yield up thoir coffors, and mortgage their possessions. And so they ought ; but tlioy murmur, already, at what they have yioldod to our necessities.” “And, in truth,” rojoined tho friar, “these noble warriors should not bo shorn of a splendour that well becomes tlio valiant champions of tho Church. Nay, listen to mo, son, and I may suggest a means whereby, not tho friends, but onomios, of tho Catholic faith shall contribute to the downfall of tho Paynim. In thy dominions, especially thoso newly won, throughout Andalusia, in tho kingdom of Cordova, are men of enormous wealth ; tho vory caverns of tho earth are sown with tho impious troasuro they have plundered from Christian hands, and consume in tho furtherance of their iniquity. Sire, 1 speak of tho race that crucified tho Lord.” “ Tho Jows — ay, but tho oxenso - ” “Is before thco. This traitor, with whom thou boldest intercourse, who vowed to thee to render up Granada, and who was found, tho vory next morning, fighting with tho Moors, with tho blood of a Spanish martyr rod upon his hands, did ho not confess that his fathers were of that hateful race ? did ho not bargain with theo to olovato his brethren to the rank of Christians P and has ho not loft with theo, upon false pretences, a harlot of his faith, who, by sorcery and tho help of tho evil ono, hath seduced into frantic passion tho heart of tho heir of tho most Christian king P ” “Ha! thus doos that libertine boy ever scandalise us!” said tho king, bitterly. “ Well,” pursued tho Dominican, not hooding the interrup¬ tion, “ have you not hero excuse enough to wring from tho wholo race tho purchase of thoir existence P Note tho glaring proof of this conspiracy of hell. The outcasts of tho earth employed this crafty agent to contract with theo for power ; and, to consummate thoir guilty designs, tho arts that seduced Solomon are employed against thy son. Tho beauty of tho strange woman captivates his senses; so that, through tho future sovereign of Spain, tho counsels of Jewish craft may establish the domination of Jewish ambition. How knowost thou (ho added as he obsorved that Ferdinand listened to him with earnest attention)- how knowost thou but what tho next step might have been thy secret assassination, so that tho victim of witchcraft, tho minion of the Jewess, might reign in tho stead of the mighty and unconquerable Ferdinand p ” SO LEILA. “Go on, father,” said the king, thoughtfully ; “I see, at least, enough to justify an impost upon these servitors of Mammon.” “ But, though common senso suggests to us,” continued Torquemada, “ that this disguised Israelite could not have acted on so vast a design without the instigation of his brethren, not only in Granada, but throughout all Andalusia, — would it not be right to obtain from him his confession, and that of the maiden, within the camp, so that we may have broad and undeniable evidence, whereon to act, and to still all cavil, that may come not only from the godless, but even from the too tender scruples of the righteous ? Even the queen — whom the saints ever guard ! — hath ever too soft a heart for these infidels ; and - ” “ Right ! ” cried the king, again breaking upon Torquemada; “ Isabel, the queen of Castille, must be satisfied of the justice of all our actions.” “ And, should it be pi’oved that thy throne or life wero endangered, and that magic was exercised to entrap her royal son into a passion for a Jewish maiden, which the Church holds a crime worthy of excommunication itself, — surely, instead of counteracting, she would assist our schemes.” “ Holy friend,” said Ferdinand, with energy, “ ever a com¬ forter, both for this world and the next, to thee, and to the new powers intrusted to thee, we commit this charge ; see to it at once ; time presses — Granada is obstinate — the treasury ■waxes low.” “ Son, thou hast said enough,” replied the Dominican, closing his eyes, and muttering a short thanksgiving. “ Now theji to my task.” “ Yet stay,” said the king, with an altered visage ; “ follow me to my oratory within : my heart is heavy, and I would fain seek the solace of the confessional.” The monk obeyed : and while Ferdinand, whose wonderful abilities were mingled with the weakest superstition, — who persecuted from policy, yet believed, in his own heart, that lie punished but from piety, — confessed with penitent tears, the grave offences of aves forgotten, and beads untold; and while the Dominican admonished, rebuked, or soothed, — neither prince nor monk ever dreamt that there was an error to confess, in, or a penance to be adjudged to, the cruelty that tortured a fellow-being, or the avarice that sought pretences for the extortion of a whole people. LEILA. 81 CHAPTER VII. THE TRIBUNAL AND TH1I MIRACLE. It was the dead of night — the army was hushed in sleep — when four soldiers, belonging to the Holy Brotherhood, bear¬ ing with them one whoso manacles proclaimed him a prisoner, passed in steady silence to a liugo tent in tho neighbourhood of the royal pavilion. A deep dyke, formidable barricadoes, and sentries stationed at frequent intervals, testified tho esti¬ mation in which the safety of this segment of the camp was held. The tent to which tho soldiers approached was, in extent, larger than even the king’s pavilion itself — a mansion of canvas, surrounded by a wide wall of massive stone ; and from its summit gloomed, in tho clear and shining starlight, a small black pennant, on which was wrought a white broad- pointed cross. Tho soldiers halted at the gate in the wall, resigned their charge, with a whispered watchword, to two gaunt sontries ; and then (relieving the sentries who proceeded on with the prisoner) remained, mute and motionless, at the post : for stern silenco and Spartan discipline wore the attri¬ butes of tho brotherhood of St. Hermandad. Tho prisoner, as he now neared the tent, halted a moment, looked round steadily, as if to fix the spot in his remembrance, and then, with an impatient though stately gesture, followed his guards. He passed two divisions of the tent, dimly lighted, and apparently deserted. A man, clad in long black robes, with a white cross on his breast, now appeared ; thero was an interchange of signals in dumb-show — and in another moment Almamcn, the Hebrew, stood within a large chamber (if so that division of the tent might be called) hung with black serge. At tho upper part of the spaco was an estrado, or platform, on which, by a long table, sato three men ; while, at tho head of the board was aeon tho calm and rigid coun¬ tenance of Tomas do Torquemada. The threshold of tho tent was guarded by two men, in garments similar in hue and fashion to those of the figure who had ushered Almamcn into the presence of tho inquisitor, each bearing a long lance, and with a long two-edged sword by his side. This made all tho inhabitants of that melancholy and ominous apartment. Tho Israelite looked round with a pale brow, but a flashing and scornful eye ; and, when ho met the gaze of the Dominican, it almost seemed as if those two men, each so raised above his fellows by tho sternness of his nature, and the energy of a 82 LEILA. Lis passions, sought by a look alone to assert bis own supremacy and crush bis foe. Yet, in truth, neither did justice to the other ; and the indignant disdain of Almamen was retorted by the cold and icy contempt of the Dominican. “ Prisoner,” said Torquemada (the first to withdraw his gaze), “ a less haughty and stubborn demeanour might have better suited thy condition : but no matter ; our Church is meek and humble. We have sent for thee in a charitable and paternal hope; for although as spy and traitor, thy life is already foz’feited, yet would we fain redeem and spare it to repentance. That hope mayst thou not forego, for the nature of all of us is weak and clings to life — that straw of the drowning seaman.” “ Priest, if such thou art,” replied the Hebrew, “I have already, when first brought to this camp, explained the causes of my detention amongst the troops of the Moor. It was my zeal for the king of Spain that brought me into that peril. Escaping from that peril, incurred in his behalf, is tho king of Spain to be my accuser and my judge ? If, however, my life now be sought as the grateful return for the proffer of inestimable service, I stand here to yield it. Do thy worst ; and tell thy master, that he loses more by my death than ho can win by the lives of thirty thousand warriors.” “ Cease this idle babble,” said the monk-inquisitor, con¬ temptuously, “nor think thou couldst ever deceive, with thy empty words, the mighty intellect of Ferdinand of Spain. Thou hast now to defend thyself against still graver charges than those of treachery to the king whom thou didst profess to serve. Yea, misbeliever as thou art, it is thine to vindicate thyself from blasphemy against the God thou shouldst adore. Confess the truth : thou art of the tribe and faith of Israel? ” The Hebrew frowned darkly. “Man,” said be, solemnly, “is a judge of the deeds of men, but not of their opinions. 1 will not answer thee.” “Pause! Wo have means at hand that the strongest nerves and tho stoutest hearts have failed to encounter. Pause — confess ! ” “ Thy threat awes me not,” said tho Hebrew : “ but I am human ; and since thou wouldst know the truth, thou mayst learn it without tho torture. I am of the same race as tho apostles of thy church — I am a Jew.” “ Ho confesses — write down the words. Prisoner, thou hast done wisely ; and we pray the Lord that, acting thus, thou LEILA. 83 mayst escape both the torture and the death. And in that faith thy daughter was reared p Answer.” “My daughter! there is no charge against her! By the God of Sinai and Horeb, yon. dare not touch a hair of that innocent head ! ” “ Answer,” repeated the inquisitor, coldly. “I do answer. She was brought up no renegade to her father’s faith.” “Write down the confession. Prisoner,” resumed the Dominican, after a pause, “but few more questions remain; answer them truly, and thy life is saved. In thy conspiracy to raise thy brotherhood of Andalusia to power and influence — or, as thou didst craftily term it, to equal laws with the followers of our blessed Lord ; in thy conspiracy (by what dark arts I seek not now to know — protege nos, beate Domine /) to entangle in wanton affections to thy daughter the heart of the Infant of Spain — silence, I say — be still ! in this conspiracy, thou wert aided, abetted, or instigated by certain Jews of Andalusia — ” “ Hold, priest ! ” cried Almamen, impetuously, “ thou didst name my child. Do I hear aright ? Placed under the sacred charge of a king and a belted knight, has she — oh ! answer mo, I implore thee — been insulted by the licentious addresses of one of that king’s own lineage ? Answer ! I am a Jew — but I am a father, and a man.” “ This pretended passion deceives us not,” said the Domini¬ can (who, himself cut off from the ties of life, knew nothing of their power). “ Reply to the question put to thee : name thy accomplices.” “ I have told thee all. Thou hast rofused to answer me. I scorn and defy thee : my lips are closed.” The grand inquisitor glanced to his brethren, and raised his hand. His assistants whispered each other ; one of them rose, and disappeared behind the canvas at the back of the tent. Presently the hangings were withdrawn; and the prisoner beheld an interior chamber, hung with various in¬ struments, the nature of which was betrayed by their very shape ; while, by the rack, placed in the centre of that dreary chamber, stood a tall and grisly figure, his arms bare, his eyes bent, as by an instinct, on the prisoner. Almamen gazed at these dread preparations with an un¬ flinching aspect. The guards at the entrance of the tent approached : they struck off the fetters from his feet and hands ; they led him towards the appointed place of torture. 84 LEILA. Suddenly tlio Israelites paused. “ Priest,” said he, in a more humble accent than ho had yet assumed, “ the tidings that thou didst communicate to me, respecting the sole daughter of my house and love, bewildered and confused me for the moment. Suffer mo but for a single moment to recollect my senses, and I will answer without compulsion all thou rnayst ask. Permit thy questions to bo repeated.” The Dominican, whose cruelty to others seemed to himself sanctioned by his own insensibility to fear, and contempt for bodily pain, smiled with bitter scorn at tho apparent vacilla¬ tion and weakness of the prisoner : but, as he delighted not in torture, merely for torture’s sake, he motioned to tho guards to release the Israelite ; and replied in a voice unnatu¬ rally mild and kindly, considering the circumstances of the scene, — “Prisoner, could wo save thee from pain, even by the anguish of our own flesh and sinews, Heaven is our judge that wo would willingly undergo the torture which, with grief and sorrow, wo ordained to thee. Pause — take breath — collect thyself. Three minutes shalt thou have to consider what course to adopt ere we repeat tho question. But then beware how thou triflest with our indulgence.” “It suffices — I thank thee," said the Hebrew, with a touch of gratitude in his voice. As he spoke, he bent his face within his bosom, which ho covered, as in profound medita¬ tion, with tho folds of his long robo. Scarce half tho brief time allowed him had expired, when he again lifted his coun¬ tenance, and, as he did so, flung back his garment. Tho Dominican uttered a loud cry ; tho guards started back in awe. A wonderful chango had come over the intended victim ; ho seemed to stand amongst them literally wrapt in fire ; flames burst from his lip, and played with his long locks, as, catching tho glowing hue, they curled over his shoulders, like serpents of burning light : blood-red wero his breast and limbs, his haughty crest, and his outstretched arm ; and as, for a single moment, ho met the shuddering eyes of his judges, he seemed, indeed, to verify all the superstitions of the time — no longer the trembling captive, but the mighty demon, or the terrible magician. The Dominican was tho first to recover his self-possession. “ Seizo tho enchanter ! ” ho exclaimed ; but no man stirred. Ere yet tho exclamation had died on his lip, Almamcn took from his breast a phial, and dashed it on tho ground — it LEILA. 85 broko into a thousand shivers : a mist rose over tho apart¬ ment — it spread, thickened, darkened, as a sudden night; tho lamps could not pierce it. Tho luminous form of the Hebrew grew dull and dim, until it vanished in tho shade. On every cyo blindness seemed to fall. There was a dead silence, broken by a cry and groan ; and when, after somo minutes, tho darkness gradually dispersed, Almamen was gone. One of tho guards lay bathed in blood upon tho ground ; they raised him : ho had attempted to seize the prisoner, and had boon stricken with a mortal wound. Ho died as he faltered forth the explanation. In tho confusion and dismay of the scone, none noticed, till long afterwards, that the prisoner had paused long enough to strip the dying guard of his long mantle ; a proof that ho feared his more secret arts might not suflico to bear him safo through the camp, without the aid of worldly stratagem. “ The fiend hath been amongst us ! ” said tho Dominican, solemnly, falling on his knees, — “ let us pray ! ” BOOK III. CHAPTER I. ISABEL AND TIIE JEWISH MAIDEN. While tliis scene took place before the tribunal of Torque- mad a, Leila had been summoned from the indulgence of fears, which her gentle nature and her luxurious nurturing had ill- fitted her to contend against, to the presence of the queen. That gifted and high-spirited princess, whose virtues were her own, whose faults were of her age, was not, it is true, without the superstition and something of the intolerant spirit of her royal spouse : hut, even where her faith assented to persecution, her heart ever inclined to mercy ; and it was her voice alone that ever counteracted the fiery zeal of Torque- mada, and mitigated the sufferings of the unhappy ones who fell under the suspicion of heresy. She had, happily, too, within her a strong sense of justice, as well as the sentiment of compassion ; and often, when she could not save the accused, she prevented the consequences of his imputed crime falling upon the innocent members of his house or tribe. In the interval between his conversation with Ferdinand and the examination of Almamen, the Dominican had sought the queen ; and had placed before her, in glowing colours, not only the treason of Almamen, but the consequences of tho impious passion her son had conceived for Leila. In that day, any connexion between a Christian knight and a Jewess -was deemed a sin, scarce expiablo ; and Isabel conceived all that horror of her son’s offence which was natural in a pious mother and a haughty queen. But, despite all the arguments of the friar, she could not be prevailed upon to render up Leila to tho tribunal of the Inquisition ; and that dread court, but newly established, did not dare, without her consent, to seize upon one under the immediate protection of the queen. “Fear not, father,” said Isabel, with quiet firmness, — “I will take upon myself to examine the maiden ! and, at least, I will see her removed from all chance of tempting or being LEILA. 87 tempted by this graceless boy. But she was placed under charge of the king and myself as a hostage and a trust ; we accepted the charge, and our royal honour is pledged to the safety of the maiden. Heaven forbid that I should deny the existence of sorcery, assured as we are of its emanation from the Evil One ; but I fear, in this fancy of Juan’s, that the maiden is more sinned against than sinning : and yet my son is, doubtless, not aware of the unhappy faith of the J ewess ; the knowledge of which alone will suffice to cure him of his error. You shake your head, father ; but, I repeat, I will act in this affair so as to merit the confidence I demand. Go, good Tomas. We have not reigned so long, without belief in our power to control and deal with a simple maiden.” The queen extended her hand to the monk, with a smile, so sweet in its dignity, that it softened even that rugged heart ; and, witli a reluctant sigh, and a murmured prayer that her counsels might be guided for the best, Torquemada left the royal presence. “ The poor child ! ” thought Isabel,— “ those tender limbs, and that fragile form, are ill fitted for yon monk’s stern tutelage. She seems gentle ; and her face has in it all the yielding softness of our sex : doubtless by mild means, she may be persuaded to abjure her wretched creed ; and the shade of some holy convent may hide her alike from the licentious gazo of my son, and the iron zeal of the Inquisitor. I will see her.” When Leila entered the queen’s pavilion, Isabel, who was alone, marked her trembling step with a compassionate eye ; and, as Leila, in obedience to the queen’s request, threw up her veil, the paleness of her cheek and the traces of recent tears, appealed to Isabel’s heart with more success than had attended all the pious invectives of Torquemada. “ Maiden,” said Isabel, encouragingly, “ I fear thou hast been strangely harassed by the thoughtless caprice of the young prince. Think of it no more. But, if thou art what I have ventured to believe, and to assert thee to be, cheerfully subscribe to the means I will suggest for preventing the con¬ tinuance of addresses which cannot but injure thy fair name.” “Ah, madam ! ” said Leila, as she fell on one knee beside the queen, “most joyfully, most gratefully, will I accept any asylum which proffers solitude and peace.” “ The asylum to which I would fain lead thy steps,” answered Isabel, gently, “ is indeed one whose solitude is holy — whoso peace is that of heaven. But of this hereafter. 88 LEILA. Tlion wilt not hesitate, then, to quit the camp, unknown to the prince, and ere he can again seek thee ? ” “ Hesitate, madam ? Ah ! rather, how shall I express my thanks ? ” u I did not read that face misjudgingly,” thought the queen, aa she resumed. “Be it so ; we will not lose another night. Withdraw yonder, through the inner tent ; the litter shall be straight prepared for thee ; and ere midnight thou shalt sleop in safety under the roof of one of the bravest knights and noblest ladies that our realm can boast. Thou shalt bear with thee a letter that shall commend thee specially to the care of thy hostess — thou wilt find her of a kindly and fostering nature. And, oh, maiden! ” added the queen, with benevolent warmth, “ steel not thy heart against her — listen with ductile senses to her gentle ministry ; and may God and His Son prosper that pious lady’s counsel, so that it may win a new strayling to the Immortal Fold ! ” Leila listened and wondered, but made no answer ; until, as she gained the entrance to the interior division of the tent, she stopped abruptly, and said, — “Pardon me, gracious queen, but dare I ask thee one question — it is not of myself ? ” “ Speak, and fear not.” My father — hath aught been heard of him ? He promised, that ere the fifth day were past, he would once moro see his child ; and, alas ! that date is past, and I am still alone in the dwelling of the stranger ! ” “ Unhappy child ! ” muttered Isabel to herself, “thou knowest not his treason nor his fate — yet why shouldst thou ? ignorant of what would render thee blest hereafter, continue ignorant of what would afflict thee here. Be cheered, maiden,” answered the queen, aloud. “ No doubt, there are reasons sufficient to forbid your meeting. But thou shalt not lack friends in the dwelling-house of the stranger.” Ah, noble queen, pardon me, and one word more ! There hath been with me, more than once, a stern old man, whose voice freezes the blood within my veins ; he questions mo of my father, and in the tone of a foe who would entrap from the child something to the peril of the sire. That man— thou knoAvest him, gracious queen — he cannot have the power to harm my father ? ” “ Peace, maiden ! the man thou speakest of is the priest of God, and flic innocent have nothing to dread from his revrerend zeal. lor thyself, I say again, be cheered; in the home to LEILA. 89 ■which I consign thee, thou wilt see him no more. Take comfort, poor child — weep not : all have their cares ; onr duty is to bear in this life, reserving hope only for the next.” The queen, destined herself to those domestic afflictions which pomp cannot soothe, nor power allay, spoke with a prophetic sadness which yet more touched a heart that her kindness of look and tone had already softened ; and, in the impulse of a nature never tutored in the rigid ceremonials of that stately court, Leila suddenly came forward, and falling on one knee, seized the hand of her protectress, and kissed it warmly through her tears. “ Are you, too, unhappy ? ” she said, — “ I will pray for you to my God ! ” The queen, surprised and moved at an action, wdiich, had witnesses been present, would only perhaps (for such is human nature), have offended her Castilian prejudices, left her hand in Leila’s grateful clasp ; and, laying the other upon the parted and luxuriant ringlets of the kneeling maiden, said, gently, — “And thy prayers shall] avail thee and me when thy God and mine are the same. Bless thee, maiden ! I am a mother; thou art motherless — bless thee! ” CHAPTER II. THE TEMPTATION OP THE JEWESS IN WHICH THE HISTORY PASSES FROM THE OUTWARD TO THE INTERNAL. It was about the very hour, almost the very moment, in which Almamen effected his mysterious escape from the tent of the Inquisition, that the train accompanying the litter which bore Leila, and which was composed of some chosen soldiers of Isabel’s own body-guard, after traversing the camp, winding along that part of the mountainous defile which was in the possession of the Spaniards, and ascending a high and steep acclivity, halted before the gates of a strongly fortified castle renowned in the chronicles of that memorable war. The hoarse challenge of the sentry, the grating of jealous bars, the clanks of hoofs upon the rough pavement of the courts, and the streaming glare of torches — falling upon stern and bearded visages, and imparting a ruddier glow to the moonlit buttresses and battlements of the fortress — aroused Leila from a kind of torpor rather than sleep, in which the fatigue and excitement of the day had steeped her senses. 90 LEILA. An old seneschal conducted her, through vast and gloomy halls, (how unlike the brilliant chambers and fantastic arcades of her Moorish home!) to a huge Gothic apartment, hung with the arras of Flemish looms. In a few moments, maidens, hastily aroused from slumber, grouped around her with a respect which would certainly not have been accorded had her birth and creed been known. They gazed with surprise at her extraordinary beauty and foreign garb, and evidently considered the new guest a welcome addition to the scanty society of the castle. Under any other circumstances, the strangeness of all she saw, and the frowning gloom of the chamber to which she was consigned, would have damped the spirits of one whose destiny had so suddenly passed from the deepest quiet into the sternest excitement. But any change was a relief to the roar of the camp, the addresses of the prince, and the ominous voice aud countenance of Torqne- mada ; and Leila looked around her, with the feeling that the queen’s promise was fulfilled, and that she was already amidst the blessings of shelter and repose. It was long, however, before sleep revisited her eyelids, and when she woke the noonday suit streamed broadly through the lattice. By the bedside sate a matron advanced in years, but of a mild and prepossessing countenance, which only borrowed a yet more attractive charm from an expression of placid and habitual melancholy. She was robed in black ; but the rich pearls that were interwoven in the sleeves and stomacher, the jewelled cross that was appended from a chain of massive gold, and, still more, a certain air of dignity and command, — bespoke, even to the inexperienced eye of Leila, the evidence of superior station. “ Thou hast slept late, daughter,” said the lady, with a benevolent smile ; “ may thy slumbers have refreshed thee ! Accept my regrets that I knew not till this morning of thine arrival, or I should have been the first to welcome the charge of my royal mistress.” There was in the look, much more than in the words of the Donna Inez de Quexada, a soothing and tender interest that was as balm to the heart of Leila ; in truth, she had been made the guest of, perhaps, the only lady in Spain, of pure and Christian blood, who did not despise or execrate the name of Leila’s tribe. Donna Inez had herself contracted to a Jew a debt of gratitude which she had sought to return to the ■whole race. Many years before the time in which our tale is cast, her husband and herself had been sojourning at Naples, LEILA. 91 then closely connected with the politics of Spain, upon an im¬ portant state mission. They had then an only son, a youth of a wild and desultory character, whom the spirit of adven¬ ture allured to the East. In one of those sultry lands the young Quexada was saved from the hands of robbers by the caravanserai of a wealthy traveller. With this stranger he contracted that intimacy which wandering and romantic men often conceive for each other, without any other sympathy than that of the same pursuits. Subsequently, he discovered that his companion was of the Jewish faith ; and, with the usual prejudice of his birth and time, recoiled from the friend¬ ship he had solicited, and shrank from the sense of the obligation he had incurred : he quitted his companion. Wearied, at length, with travel, he was journeying home¬ ward, when he was seized with a sudden and virulent fever, mistaken for plague : all fled from the contagion of the sup¬ posed pestilence — he was left to die. One man discovered his condition — watched, tended, and, skilled in the deeper secrets of the healing art, restored him to life and health : it was the same Jew who had preserved him from the robbers. At this second and more inestimable obligation, the prejudices of the Spaniard vanished : he formed a deep and grateful attachment for his preserver ; they lived together for some time, and the Israelite finally accompanied the young Quexada to Naples. Inez retained a lively sense of the service rendered to her only son ; and the impression had been increased, not only by the appearance of the Israelite, which, dignified and stately, bore no likeness to the cringing servility of his brethren, but also by the singular beauty and gentle deportment of his then newly-wed bride, whom he had wooed and won in that holy land, sacred equally to the faith of Christian and of Jew. The young Quexada did not long survive his return : his constitution was broken by long travel, and the debility that followed his fierce disease. On his death-bed he had besought the mother Avhom he left childless, and whose Catholic preju¬ dices were less stubborn than those of his sire, never to forget the services a Jew had conferred upon him ; to make the sole recompense in her power — the sole recompense the Jew him¬ self had demanded — and to lose no occasion to soothe or mitigate the miseries to which the bigotry of the time often exposed the oppressed race of his deliverer. Donna Inez had faithfully kept the promise she gave to the last scion of her house; and, through the power and l'eputation of her husband and her own connexions, and still more through an early 92 LEILA. friendship with tho queen, sho liad, on her return to Spain, boon enabled to ward oil many a persecution, and many a charge on falso pretences, to which the wealth of some son of Israel made the causo, while his faith made tho pretext. Yet, with all the natural feelings of a rigid Catholic, she had earnestly sought to render tho favour she had thus obtained amongst tho Jews minister to her pious zeal for their more than temporal welfare. Sho had endeavoured, by gentle means, to make the conversions which force was impotent to effect ; and, in some instances, her success had been signal. Tho good sefiora had thus obtained high renown for sanctity ; and Isabel thought rightly, that she could not select a pro¬ tectress for Leila, who would moro kindly shelter her youth, or more strenuously labour for her salvation. It was, indeed, a dangerous situation for tho adhcrcnco of tho maiden to that faith which it had cost her fiery father so many sacrifices to preserve and to advanco. It was by little and little that Donna Inez sought rather to undermine than to storm the mental fortress, sho hoped to man with spiritual allies ; and, in her frequent conversations with Leila, sho was at once perplexed and astonished by tho simplo and sublirno naturo of tho belief upon which sho waged war. Dor whether it was that, in his desire .to pre¬ serve Leila as much as possible from contact even with Jews themselves, whose general character (vitiated by tho oppression which engendered meanness, and tho oxtortion which fostered avarice) Almamon regarded with lofty though concealed re- pugnanco ; or whether it was, that his philosophy did not interpret tho Jowish formula of belief in the samo spirit as tho herd, — tho religion inculcated in the breast of Leila was different from that which lnoz had over before encountered amongst her proselytes. It was less mundane and material — • a kind of passionato rather than metaphysical theism, which invested tho great Onr, indeed, with many human sympathies and attributes, but still left Him tho august and awful God of tho Genesis, tho Father of a Universe, though tho indi¬ vidual Protector of a fallen sort. Her attention had been less directed to whatever appears, to a superficial gaze, stern and inexorablo in tho character of the Hebrew God, and which tho religion of Christ so beautifully softened and so majestically refined, I lian to those passages in which His love watched over a chosen people, and His forbearance bore with their transgressions. Her reason had been worked upon to its belief by that mysterious and solemn agency, by which — when LEILA. 03 the whole world beside was bowed to tho worship of innume¬ rable deities, and the adoration of graven images, — in a small and secluded portion of earth, amongst a people far loss civilised and philosophical than many by which they vvoro sur¬ rounded, had been alone preserved a pure and sublime theism, disdaining a likeness in the things of heaven or earth, boilu knew little of tho more narrow and exclusive tenets of her brethren : a Jewess in name, she was rather a deist in belief; a deist of such a creed as Athenian schools might have taught to the imaginative pupils of L’lato, save only that too dark a shadow had boon cast over the hopes of another world. With¬ out tho absolute denial of tho Sadduceo, Almamon had, pro¬ bably, much of tho quiet scepticism which belonged to many sects of tho oarly .lews, and which still clings round tho wisdom of tho wisest who reject tho doctrine of Revelation ; and while ho had not sought to eradicate from tho breast of his daughter any of tho vague desire which points to a Horeaftor, ho had never, at least, directed her thoughts or aspirations to that solemn future. Nor in tho sacred book which was given to her survey, and which so rigidly upheld tho unity of the Supreme Rower, was there that positive and unequivocal as¬ surance of life boyond “ tho gravo, whore all things are forgot¬ ten,” that might supply tho deficiencies of her mortal instructor. Perhaps, sharing tlvoso notions of the different value of tho soxos, prevalent, from tho remotest period, in his beloved and ancestral East, Almamon might have hopes for himself which did not extend to his child. And thus she grow up, u'ith all the beautiful faculties of tho soul cherished and unfolded, without thought, without rnoro than dim and shadowy con jec¬ tures, of tho Eternal Bourne to which tho sorrowing pilgrim of tho earth is bound. It was on this point that the quick eyo of Donna Inez discovered her faith was vulnerable : who would not, if belief wore voluntary, boliovo in the world to comoP Leila’s curiosity and interest wero aroused : she will¬ ingly listonod to her new guide — sho willingly inclined to conclusions pressed upon hor, not with menace, but persuasion. Free from tho stubborn associations, tho sectarian prejudices, and unversed in the peculiar traditions and accounts of the learned of her race, sho found nothing to shock her in tho volume which seemed but a continuation of the elder writings of her faith. Tho sufferings of the Messiah, his sublime purity, his meek forgiveness, spoko to her woman’s heart. ; his doctrines elevated, while they charmed, her reason : and in the Heaven that a Divine hand opened to all, — the humblo ns Oil LKILA. I, ho prom I , him oppressed an tlm oppressor, ho hho woman as (o him lord;! of I ho oarhli, slm found a. Iiavon lor all tlm doubts nIio had known, and I’m' him despair whioli of la to had dark on oil tlm I'noo of earth. I lor Imnm lost, tlm deep and beautiful lovo of her youth blighted, (.hah was a orood almost irrosistiblo which hold her hhah grief was but for a day, that happiness was eternal. far, too, from revolting such of tlm Hebrew pride of association as slm had formed, tlm birth of tlm Messiah in tlm land of him Israelites scorned to consummate hlmir peculiar triumph as tlm fleeted of Jehovah. And while slm mourned for tlm .lews who persecuted hho Saviour, slm gloried m t hose whose belief had carried t, lie name and worship of the descendants of David over tho furthest regions of the world. Often slm perplexed and startled the worthy Inez, by exclaiming, “This, your belief, is the same as mine, adding • ml v tho assurance of immortal life Christianity is but tho Key elation of .1 min ism." Tho wise and gentle instrument of India’s conversion did not, however, give vent, to those more Catholic sentiments which might have seared away tho wings of the descending dove. She Corel tore too vehemently to point out tho distinc¬ tions of tin' several creeds, and rather suffered them to molt insensibly one into I lie other : Leila was a Christian, wbilesbo st ill believed herself ft Jewess. Hut in tho fond and lovely weakness of mortal emotions, there was one bitter thought that often and often came to mar tho peace that otherwise would have settled on her soul. That father, the solo softener of whose stern heart, ami mysterious fate she was, with what pangs would Im receive the news of her conversion ! And Muza, that bright and hero-vision of her youth was slm not Hotting tin' last, seal of separation upon all hope of union with the idol of the Moors P Hut, alas I was she not already sepa- sateil from him, and had not their faiths been from the first at. variance P From those thoughts she started with sighs and tears; and before her stood the crucifix already admitted into her chamber, and not, perhaps, too wisely — banished so rigidly from t lie oratories of the Huguenot. Her the repre¬ sentation of t hat divine resignnt ion, that mortal ngonv, that miraculous sacrifice, what eloquence it. hath for our sorrows! what preaching bath the symbol to tlm vanities of our wishes, to the yearnings of our discontent ! Hy degrees, ns her new faith grew confirmed, Leila now inclined herself earnestly to those pictures of tho sanctity and calm of the conventual life which Inez delighted to draw. In LEILA. 95 the reaction of her thoughts, and her despondency of all worldly happiness, there seemed, to the young maiden, an in¬ expressible charm in a solitude which was to release her for ever from human love, and render her entirely up to sacred visions and imperishable hopes. And with this selfish, there mingled a more generous and sublime sentiment. The prayers of a convert might be heard in favour of those yet benighted ; and the awful curse upon her outcast race be lightened by the orisons of one humble heart. In all ages, in all creeds, a strange and mystic impression has existed of the efficacy of self-sacrifice in working the redemption even of a whole people : this belief, so strong in the old orient and classic re¬ ligions, was yet more confirmed by Christianity — a creed founded upon the grandest of historic sacrifices ; and the lofty doctrine of which, rightly understood, perpetuates in the heart of every believer the duty of self-immolation, as well as faith in the power of prayer, no matter how great the object, how mean the supplicator. On these thoughts Leila medi¬ tated, till thoughts acquired the intensity of passions, and tlio conversion of the Jewess was completed. CHAPTEB III. TIIE HOUR AND THE MAN. It was on the third morning after the King of Granada, reconciled to his people, had reviewed his gallant army in the Vivarrambla; and Boabdil, surrounded by his chiefs and nobles, was planning a deliberate and decisive battle, by assault on the Christian camp,— when a scout suddenly arrived, breathless, at the gates of the palace, to communicate the un¬ looked-for and welcome intelligence that Ferdinand had in the night broken up his camp, and marched across the mountains towards Cordova. In fact, the outbreak of formidable con¬ spiracies had suddenly rendered the appearance of Ferdinand necessary elsewhere ; and, his intrigues with Almamen frus¬ trated, he despaired of a very speedy conquest of the city. The Spanish king, resolved, therefore, after completing the devastation of the Vega, to defer the formal and prolonged siege, which could alone place Granada within his power, until his attention was no longer distracted to other foes, and until, it must be added, he had replenished an exhausted treasury. He had formed, with Torquemada, a vast and wide 96 LEILA. scliemo of persecution, not only against Jews, but against Christians whose fathers had been of that race, and who were suspected of relapsing into Judaical practices. The two schemers of this grand design were actuated by different motives ; the one wished to exterminate the crime, the other, to sell forgiveness for it. And Torquomada connived at the griping avarice of the king, because it served to give to him¬ self, and to the infant Inquisition, a powor and authority which the Dominican foresaw would be soon greater even than those of royalty itself, and which, ho imagined, by scourging earth, would redound to the interests of Heaven. The strange disappearance of Almamen, which was dis¬ torted and exaggerated, by the credulity of the Spaniards, into an event of the most terrific character, served to complete the chain of ovidence against the wealthy Jows, and Jew-descended Spaniards, of Andalusia; and while, in imagination, the king already clutched the gold of their redemption horo, the Do¬ minican kindled the flame that was to light them to punish¬ ment hereafter. Boabdil and his chiefs received the intelligence of the Spanish retreat with a doubt which soon yielded to the most triumphant delight. Boabdil at once resumed all the energy for which, though but by fits and starts, his earlier youth had been remarkable. “Alla Achbar ! God is great!” cried ho ; “wo will not remain here till it suit the foo to confine the eagle again to his eyrie. They have left us — we will burst on them. Summon our alfaquis, wo will proclaim a holy war ? The sovereign of the last possessions of the Moors is in the field. Not a town that contains a Moslem but shall receive our summons, and we will gather round our standard all the children of our faith ! ” “ May the king live for ever ! ” cried the council, with one voice. “ Lose not a moment,” resumed Boabdil — “ on to the Vivarrambla, marshal the troops — Muza heads the cavalry, myself our foot. Ere the sun’s shadow roach yonder forest, our army shall be on its march.” The -warriors, hastily and in joy, left the palace ; and when he was alone, Boabdil again relapsed into his wonted irresolu¬ tion. After striding to and fro for somo minutes in anxious thought, he abruptly quitted the ball of council, and passed into the more private chambers of tho palace, till ho came to a door strongly guarded by plates of iron. It yielded ensily, LEILA. 1)7 however, to a small key which ho carried in his girdle; and lloobdil stood in a small circular room, apparently without other door or outlet; but, alter looking cautiously round, tho king touched a, secret spring in tho wad I, which, giving1 way, discovered a. niche, in which stood a, small lamp, burning with the purest naptha., and a. scroll oil yellow parchment covered with strange letters and hieroglyphics, lie thrust tho scroll in his bosom, took tho lamp in his hand, and pressing another spring within tho niche, tho wall receded, and showed a narrow and winding staircaso. Tho king enclosed tho entrance, and descended : tho stairs led, at last, into damp and rough pas¬ sages ; and the murmur of wafers, that reached his ear through tho thick walls, indicated tho subterranean nature of the soil through which they were hewn. Tho lamp burned clear and steady through the darkness of the place; and Hoabdil pro¬ ceeded with such impatient rapidity, that the distance (in reality, considerable) which ho traversed, before ho arrived at his destined bourne, was quickly measured, lie car.no at last into a wide cavern, guarded by doors concealed and secret as those which had screened tho entrance from tho upper air. Ho was in ono of tho many vaults which made tho mighty cemetery of tho monarehs of Granada; and before him stood tho robed and. crowned skoloton, and before him glowed tho magic dial-plate of which ho had spoken in his interview with Muza. “ Oh, dread and awful imago!" cried tho king, throwing himself on his knees before tho skeleton, — “shadow of what was oneo a king, wiso in council, and terrible in war, if in those hollow bones yet lurks tho impalpable and unsoon spirit, hoar thy repentant son. Forgive, while if is yet time, tho rebellion of his liery youth, and suffer thy daring soul to animate tho doubt and weakness of his own. 1 go forth to battle, waiting not the signal thou didst ordain. Lot not the penance for a rashness, to which fate urges moon, attach (o my country, but to mo. And if l perish in tho held, may my evil destinies bo buried with mo, and a worthier monarch re¬ deem my errors, and preserve Granada ! ’’ As tho king raised his looks, the unrelaxed grin of the grim dead, made yet more hideous by the mockery of tho diadem and tho royal robe, froze buck to ice tho passion and sorrow at his heart. Ilo shuddered, and rose with a deep sigh; when, as his eyes mechanically followed the lifted arm of the skelel on, ho beheld, with mingled delight and awe, tho hi I herfo motionless linger of the dial-pluto pass slowly on, and rest at n 1,151 LA US I In' wm'iI tin long and ftn impatiently dosirod. “ Aiim I ” cried Hu Li nff, “du I read aright P are my prayers heard ? ” A low mill deep iiniiiiil, lilco that, of subterranean thunder, boomed through Id io chamber} and in tho same instant., Mio wall opened, n ml I, lie I in;/ belield l.lio long-ex [ineted figure of Alma- 1111-11 , l.lie magician. Rut no Imigor was I. hat stately form clad in I, he loose and peaeel’nl garb of tho I1’, astern nan ton. Com¬ plete armour eased his broad breast and sinewy limbs ; his head alone wan hare, and his prominent and impressive fen til ren were lighted, not with mystical enthusiasm, lint with warliLo energy. In his right hand, he carried a drawn sword his left supported tho staff of a snow-whito and da/./, ling liiuiner. Ho sudden was tlm apparition, and so excited the mind of the king, that Hie sight of a supernatural being could scarcely have impressed him with more nma/e and awe. ‘ King of ( I Canada," said Almsmen, “ I he hour hath como af last; go forth and eompierl With tho Christian monarch, there is no hope of peace or compact. At thy rerpiesl I sought him, lint my spells alone preserved tho life of thy herald. Ro¬ jo ire | for thine evil destinies ha, vo rolled away from thy spirit, like a rlmid from the glory of the sun. Tho genii of the Must have woven this banner from the rays of benignant stars. It elmll brum before I hen in the front of battle it shall rise over I lie rivers of ( 'hrnd ian blood. As I he moon sways tho bosom ol I lm l-ides, if shall sway and direct the surges and the course of war I " Man of mystery I thou hast given me a new life.’’ “ And, lighting by thy side," resumed Almsmen, “I will assisl to carve mil, lor thee, from the ruins of Arrngon and Castile, the grandeur of a new throne. Arm, monarch of ( I rn i in 1 1 ii ! arm I I hear llm neigh of thy charger, in tho 1111(1,1 of I lie mu lied I hmisiinds 1 A rm ! " BOOK IV. — ^ — CIIAITLIR I. LEILA IN THE CASTLE. — THE SIECIW. The calmer contemplations, and more holy anxieties of Leila, wore, at length, broken in upon by intelligence, the fearful interest of which absorbed the whole mind and care of every inhabitant of tho castle. Uoabdil el Chico had taken the Held, at the head of a numerous army. Ltapidly semiring the country, he had descended, one alter one, upon the prin¬ cipal fortresses, which Ferdinand had left, strongly garrisoned, in the immediate neighbourhood. His success was as imme¬ diate as it was signal ; the terror of his arms began, once more, to spread far and wide; every day swelled his ranks with new recruits; from the snow-clad summits of tho Sierra Nevada poured down, in wild hordes, tho fierce mountain race, who, accustomed to eternal winter, made a strange contrast, in their rugged appearance and shaggy clothing, to tho glitter¬ ing and civilised soldiery of Granada. Moorish towns, which had submitted to Ferdinand, broke from their allegiance, and sent their ardent youth and expe¬ rienced veterans to the standard of tho Keys and Orescent. To add to the sudden panio of tho Spaniards, it wont forth Unit a formidable magician, who seemed inspired rather with the fury of a demon than the valour of a man, had made an abrupt appearance in tho ranks of the Moslems. Wherever the Moors shrunk back from wall or tower, down which poured the boiling pitch, or rolled tho deadly artillery of tho besieged, this sorcerer -rushing into the midst of the llngging force, and waving, with wild gestures, a white haulier, sup¬ posed, by both Moor and Christian, to be the work of magic and preternatural spells dared every danger, and escaped every weapon: with voice, with prayer, with example, ho fired tho Moors to an enthusiasm that revived the first days of Mahometan conquest; and tower after tower, along (be 100 LEILA. miglity range of the mountain chain of fortresses, was pol¬ luted by the wave and glitter of the ever victorious banner. The veteran, Mendo de Quexada, who, with a garrison of two hundred and fifty men, held the castle of Alhendin, was, how¬ ever, undaunted by the unprecedented successes of Boabdil. A ware of the approaching storm, he spent the days of peace yet accorded to him in making every preparation for tho siege that he foresaw ; messengers were despatched to Ferdinand ; new outworks were added to the castle ; ample storo of pro¬ visions laid in ; and no precaution omitted that could still preserve to tho Spaniards a fortress, that, from its vicinity to Granada, its command of the Vega and tho valleys of tho Alpuxarras, was the bitterest thorn in the side of the Moorish power. It was early, one morning, that Leila stood by the lattice of her lofty chamber, gazing, with many and mingled emo¬ tions, on tho distant domes of Granada, as they slept in tho silent sunshine. Her heart, for the moment, was busy with the thoughts of home, and the chances and peril of the time were forgotten. The sound of martial music, afar off, broko upon her re¬ veries ; she started, and listened breathlessly ; it became more distinct and clear. The clash of the zell, the boom of the African drum, and the wild and barbarous blast of the Moorish clarion, were now each distinguishable from tho other; and, at length, as she gazed and listened, winding along the steeps of the mountain were seen tho gleaming spears and pennants of the Moslem vanguard. Another mo¬ ment and the whole castle was astir. Mendo do Quexada, hastily arming, repaired, himself, to tho battlements ; and, from her lattice, Leila beheld him, from time to time, stationing to tho best advantage his scanty troops. In a few minutes she was joined by Donna Inez and the women of the castle, who fearfully clustered round their mistress, — not the less disposed, however, to gratify the pas¬ sion of the sex, by a glimpse through tho lattice at the gor¬ geous array of the Moorish army. The casements of Leila’s chamber were peculiarly adapted to command a safe nor insufficient view of the progress of the enemy ! and, with a beating heart and flushing cheek, tho Jewish maiden, deaf to tho voices around her, imagined she could already descry, amidst the horsemen, the lion port and snowy garments of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. What a situation was hers ! Already a Christian, could aho LEILA. 101 liopc for tlie success of the infidel ? ever a woman, could she hope for the defeat of her lover ? But the time for medita¬ tion on her destiny was but brief ; the detachment of tho Moorish cavalry was now just without tho walls of the little town that girded the castle, and the loud clarion of the heralds summoned tho garrison to surrender. “Not while one stone stands upon another!” was tho short answer of Quexada ; and, in ten mimitos afterwards, the sullen roar of the artillery broke from wall and tower over the vales below. It was then that tho women, from Loila’s lattice, behold, slowly marshalling themselves in order, tho whole power and pageantry of tho besieging army. Thick — serried — line after line, column upon column — they spread below tho frowning steep. The sunbeams lighted up that goodly array, as it swayed, and murmured, and advanced, like tho billows of a glittering sea. The royal standard was soon descried waving above the pavilion of Boabdil ; and the king himself, mounted on his cream-coloured charger, which was covered with trap¬ pings of cloth-of-gold, was recognised amongst tho infantry, whose task it was to lead the assault. “ Pray with ns, my daughter ! ” cried Inez, falling on her knees. — Alas ! wliat could Leila pray for ? Four days and four nights passed away in that memorable siege ; for the moon, then at her full, allowed no respite, evon in night itself. Their numbers, and their vicinity to Granada, gave the besiegers the advantage of constant relays, and troop succeeded to troop ; so that tho weary had over successors in the vigour of new assailants. On the 5th day, all of the fortress, save the keep (an im¬ mense tower), was in the hands of the Moslems ; and in this last hold, the worn-out and scanty remnant of the garrison mustered, in the last hope of a brave despair. Quexada appeared, covered ■with gore and dust — his eyes bloodshot, his cheek haggard and hollow, his locks blanched with sudden age — in the hall of the tower, where the women, half dead with terror, were assembled. “ Food ! ” cried he — “ food and wine! — it may be our last banquet.” His wife threw her arms round him. “ Not yet,” he cried “ not yet; we will have ono embrace before we part.” “ Is there, then, no hope ? ” said Inez, with a pale cheek, yet steady eye. “ None ; unless to-morrow’s dawn gild the spears of Fer- 1 02 bKlbA. dinand’s army upon yonder hills. rI'il1 morn wo may hold out." Ah lio h | k > 1< o, ho hastily devoured Homo morsels of food, drained a li ago goblet of wine, and abruptly quilted llio elaunhor. At f.liat momnni, the women distinctly hoard tho lond hIioiiIh of i.lm Moors; and Leila, approaching I lie grated ease¬ ment, could pereeivo tlio approach of what Heemod to her like mov i ng walls. Covered by ingenioiiH conHtmotioiiH of wood and thick hides, I ho hoHiogorH advanced to the foot of the tower in comparative shelter from the burning streams which still poured, fast and soothing, from the battlements ; while, In the rear, tamo showers of darts and cross-bolls from the more distant Moors, protecting (Im work of the engineer, and piercing through almost every loophole and crevice in the fortress. Meanwhile, the stalwart governor behold, with dismay and despair, the preparations of I he engineers, whom the wooden screen-works protected from every weapon. “ Hy the lady Sepulchre ! ” cried he, gnashing his teeth, “ they are mining I lie tower, and wo hIiuII be buried in its i'll i i id I book out, (lonsulvn ! see you not a gleam of spears, yonder, over the mountain P Mine eyes are dim with watching.” “Alas! brave Mondo, if is only the sloping sun upon the snows but there is hope yet.” The soldier's words terminated in a shrill and sudden cry of agony ; and he fell dead by the side of CJuexadu, the brain crushed by a boll from a Moorish nrqnobuss. “My host warrior 1 ” said (^uexada ; “peace bo with him! I lo, there ! see you yon despera te infidel urging on the miners p Hy the heavens above if is ho of the white banner! il is the sorcerer! Fire on him! he iH without tlio shelter of the woodworks.” Twenty shafts, from wearied and nerveless arms, fell in¬ nocuous round the form of Almamon : and as, waving aloft his ominous banner, lie disappeared again behind the Hereen- works, the Spaniards almost fancied they could hear Ids exulting and demon laugh. The sixth day came, and the work of the enemy was com¬ pleted. The tower was entirely undermined the foundations rested only upon wooden props, which, with a humanity that was characteristic of Hoahdil, had boon placed there in order that the besieged might cHeape ere the final crash of their last hold. LET LA. 103 Yn was now noon : the whole Moorish force, quitting the plain, occupied the steep that spread below tlio tower, in mul¬ titudinous array and breathless expectation. The minors stood aloof — the Spaniards lay prostrate and exhausted upon the battlements, like mariners, who, after every effort against the storm, await, resigned, and almost indifferent, the sweep of the fatal surge. Suddenly tlio lines of the Moors gavo way, and Boabdil himself, with Muza at his right hand, arid Ahnamon on his left, advanced towards the foot of the tower. At the same time, the Ethiopian guards, each bearing a torch, marched slowly in the rear ; and from the midst of them paced the royal herald, and sounded the last warning. Tlio hush of the immense armament- the glare of tlio torches, lighting the ebon faces and giant forms of thoir bearers — the majestic appearance of the king himself — the heroic aspect of Mu/, a — the bare head and glittering banner of Almamen — all com¬ bined with the circumstances of the time to invest the spectacle with something singularly awful, and, perhaps, sublime. Qncxada turned his eyes, mutely, round tlio ghastly faces of bis warriors, and still made not the signal. His lips mut¬ tered — his eyes glared : when, suddenly, he heard below tlio wail of women ; and the thought of Inez, the bride of his youth, the partner of his age, came upon him; and, with a trembling hand, lie lowered the yet unquailing standard of Spain. Then, the silenco below broke into a mighty shout, which shook the grim tower to its unsteady and temporary base. “ Arise, my friends,” ho said, with a bitter sigh ; “wo have fought like men — and our country will not blush for us.” Ho descended the winding stairs — his soldiers followed him with faltering steps : the gates of the keep unfolded, and these gallant Christians surrendered themselves to the Moor. “ Do with us as you will,” said Quoxadu, as lie laid the keys at the hoofs of Boabdil’s barb ; “ but there are women in tlie garrison, who - ” “ Arc sacred,” interrupted the king. “ At once we accord their liberty, and free transport whithersoever ye would de¬ sire. Speak then ! To what place of safety shall they bo conducted ? ” “ Generous king!” re j died tlio veteran Quoxada, brushing away his tears with the back of his hand; “you take the 104 LEILA. sting from our shame. We accept your offer, in the same spirit in which it is made. Across the mountains, on the verge of the plain of Olfadez, I possess a small castle, ungarrisoned and unfortified. Thence, should the war take that direction, the women can readily obtain safe conduct to the queen, at Cordova.” “Be it so,” returned Boabdil. Then, with oriental delicacy, selecting the eldest of the officers round him, he gave him instructions to enter the castle, and, with a strong guard, pro¬ vide for the safety of the women, according to the directions of Qnexada. To another of his officers he confided the Spanish prisoners, and gave the signal to his army to with¬ draw from the spot, leaving only a small body to complete the ruin of the fortress. Accompanied by Almamen and his principal officers, Boabdil now hastened towards Granada ; and while, with slower pro¬ gress, Qnexada and his companions, under a strong escort, took their way across the Vega, a sudden turn in their course brought abruptly befor* them the tower they had so valiantly defended. There it still stood, proud and stern, amidst the blackened and broken wrecks around it, shooting aloft, dark and grim, against the sky. Another moment, and a mighty crash sounded on their ears, while the tower fell to the earth, amidst volumes of wreathing smoke and showers of dust, which were borne, by the concussion, to the spot on which they took their last gaze of the proudest fortress on which the Moors of Granada had beheld, from their own walls, the standard of Arragon and Castile. At the same time, Leila, — thus brought so strangely within the very reach of her father and her lover, and yet, by a mysterious fate, still divided from both, — with Donna Inez, and the rest of the females of the garrison, pursued her melan¬ choly path along the ridges of the mountains. CHAPTER II. ALMAMEN’s PROPOSED ENTERPRISE. — THE THREE ISRAELITES. — CIR¬ CUMSTANCE IMPRESSES EACH CHARACTER WITH A VARYING PIE. Boabdil followed up his late success with a series of bril¬ liant assaults on the neighbouring fortresses. Granada, like a strong man bowed to the ground, wrenched, one after one, the bands that had crippled her liberty and strength; and, at LEILA. 105 length, after regaining a considerable portion of the surround¬ ing territory, the king resolved to lay siege to the sea-port of Salobreha. Could he obtain this town, Boabdil, by establish¬ ing communication between the sea and Granada, would both be enabled to avail himself of the assistance of his African allies, and also prevent the Spaniards from cutting off sup¬ plies to the city, should they again besiege it. Thither, then, accompanied by Muza, the Moorish king bore his victorious standard. On the eve of his departure, Almamen sought the king’s presence. A great change had come over the santon since the departure of Ferdinand: his wonted stateliness of mien was gone ; his eyes were sunk and hollow ; his manner, dis¬ turbed and absent. In fact, his love for his daughter made the sole softness of his character ; and that daughter was in the hands of the king who had sentenced the father to the tortures of the Inquisition ! To what dangers might she not bo subjected, by the intolerant zeal of conversion ! and could that frame, and gentle heart, brave the terrific engines that might be brought against her fears ? “Better,” thought he, “ that she should perish, even by the torture, than adopt that hated faith.” IIo gnashed his teeth in agony at either alter¬ native. His dreams, his objects, his revenge, his ambition — all forsook him : one single hope, one thought, completely mastered his stormy passions and fitful intellect. In this mood the pretended santon met Boabdil. He repre¬ sented to the king, over whom his influence had prodigiously increased since the late victories of the Moors, the necessity of employing the armies of Ferdinand at a distance. He pro¬ posed, in furtherance of this policy, to venture himself in Cordova ; to endeavour secretly to stir up those Moors, in that, their ancient kingdom, who had succumbed to the Spanish yoke, and whose hopes might naturally be inflamed by tho recent successes of Boabdil ; and, at least, to foment such disturbances as might afford the king sufficient time to complete his designs, and recruit his force by aid of the powers with which he was in league. The representations of Almamen at length conquered Boabdil’s reluctance to part with his sacred guide ; and it was finally arranged that the Israelite should at once depart from the city. As Almamen pursued homeward his solitary way, he found himself suddenly accosted in the Hebrew tongue, he turned hastily, and saw before him an old man in the Jewish gown : 106 LEILA lie recognised Elias, one of the -wealthiest and most eminent of the race of Israel. “ Pardon me, wise countryman ! ” said the Jew, bowing to the earth, “ bnt I cannot resist the temptation of claiming kindred with one, through whom the horn of Israel may be so triumphantly exalted.” Hush, man ! ” said Almamen, quickly, and looking sharply ronnd ; “ I thy countryman ! Art thou not, as thy speech betokens, an Israelite ? ” *' Yea,” returned the Jew, “ and of the same tribe as thy honoured father — peace be with his ashes ! I remembered thee at once, boy though thou wert when thy steps shook off the dust against Granada. I remembered thee, I say, at once, on thy return ; but I have kept thy secret, trusting that, through thy soul and genius, thy fallen brethren might put off sackcloth, and feast upon the house-tops.” Almamen looked hard at the keen, sharp, Arab features of the Jew ; and at length he answered, “ And how can Israel be restored ? wilt thou fight for her ? ” “ I am too old, son of Issachar, to bear arms ; but our tribes are many, and our youth strong. Amid these disturb¬ ances between dog and dog - ” “ The lion may get his own,” interrupted Almamen, im¬ petuously, — “ let us hope it. Hast thou heard of the new persecutions against us, that the false Nazarene king has already commenced in Cordova — persecutions that make the heart sick and the blood cold ? ” “ Alas ! ” replied Elias, “ such woes, indeed, have not failed to reach mine ear ; and I have kindred, near and beloved kindred, wealthy and honoured men, scattered throughout that land.” “ Were it not better that they should die on the field than by the rack ? ” exclaimed Almamen, fiercely. “ God of my fathers ! if there be yet a spark of manhood left amongst thy people, let thy servant fan it to a flame, that shall burn as the fire burns the stubble, so that the earth may bare before the blaze ! ” “ Nay,” said Elias, dismayed rather than excited by the vehe¬ mence of his comrade, — “ be not rash, son of Issachar, be not rash : peradventure thou wilt but exasperate the wrath of the rulers, and our substance thereby will bo utterly consumed.” Almamen drew back, placed his hand quietly on the Jew’s shoulder, looked him hard in the face, and, gently laughing, turned away. LEILA. 107 Elias did not attempt to arrest his steps. “ Impracticable,” he muttered ; “ impracticable and dangerous ! I always thought so. He may do us haimi : were he not so strong and tierce, I would put my knife under his left rib. Verily, gold is a great thing ; and — out on me ! the knaves at home will be wasting the oil, now they know old Elias is abroad.” Thereat the Jew drew his cloak round him, and quickened his pace. Almamen, in the meanwhile, sought, through dark and subterranean passages, known only to himself, his accustomed home. He passed much of the night alone ; but, ere the morning star announced to the mountain tops the presence of the sun, he stood, prepared for his journey, in his secret vault, by the door of the subterranean passages, with old Ximen beside him. “ I go, Ximen,” said Almamen, “ upon a doubtful quest : whether I discover my daughter, and succeed in bearing her in safety from their contaminating grasp, or whether 1 fall into their snares and perish, there is an equal chance that I may return no more to Granada. Should this be so, you will be heir to such wealth as I leave in these places ; I know that your age will be consoled for the lack of children, when your eyes look upon the laugh of gold.” Ximen bowed low, and mumbled out some inaudible pro¬ testations and thanks. Almamen sighed heavily as he looked round the room. “ I have evil omens in my soul, and evil prophecies in my books,” said he, mournfully. “ But the worst is here,” he added, putting his finger significantly to his temples ; “ the string is stretched — one more blow would snap it.” As he thus said, he opened the door, and vanished through that labyrinth of galleries, by which he was enabled at all times to reach unobserved either the palace of the Alhambra, or the gardens without the gates of the city. Ximen remained behind a few moments, in deep thought. “ All mine if he dies ! ” said he : “all mine if he does not return ! All mine, all mine ! and I have not a child nor a kinsman in the world to clutch it away from me! ” With that he locked the vault, and returned to the upper air. I OH IjKILA, CIIAPTUR III. Till1: I'THIITJ V Ifl AND Til 10 MHKTfNfl. In tl'ioir <1 i ITori • 1 1 (. directions the rival kings were equally successful. Sulobrciin, Iml. lately eonq tiered by tlio Christians, was thrown info a commotion by the lirst glimpse of Boabdil’s banners ; the |io|mlaee rose, beat back their Christian guards, mid opened the gates to the last of their race of kings. The garrison alone, to which the Spaniards retreated, resisted Bonbdil’s arms ; and, defended by impregnable walls, promised an obstinate and bloody siege. Meanwhile, Ferdinand had no sooner entered Cordova, than his extensive scheme of confiscation and holy personation eoninienoed. Not only did more than live hundred Jews perish in the dark and secret gripe id' the grand inquisitor, bill, several hundred of the wealthiest Christian families, in whose blood was defected the hereditary Jewish taint, wero llirown into prison; and such as wero most fortunate pur¬ chased life by the sacrifice of half their treasures. At this lime, however, there suddenly broke forth a formidable in¬ surrection amongst these miserable subjects — the Messenians of the Iberian Sparta. The Jews wero so far aroused from llioir long debasement by omnipotent despair, that a single spark, falling on I he ashes of their ancient spirit, rekindled the lluine of I lie descendants of the lioree warriors of Palestine. They were encouraged and assisted by tho suspected Christians, who had boon involved in the same persecution; and tho whole were headed by a man who appeared suddenly amongst I hem, and whose fiery eloquence and martial spirit produced, ill. such a season, the most fervent enthusiasm. I'nlmppily, t he whole details of this singular outbreak are withheld from us ; only by wary hints and guarded allusions do the Spanish chroniclers apprise us of its existence and its perils. Il is clear that all narrative of an event, that might afford tho most dangerous precedent, and was alarming to the pride and avarice of tho Spanish king, as well as the pious zeal of tho Church, was strictly forbidden; and tho conspiracy was hushed in the dread silence of the Inquisition, into whoso hands the principal conspirators ultimately fell. We learn, only, t hat a determined and sanguinary st ruggle was followed by the triumph of Ferdinand, and tho complete extinction of tho I reason. LEILA. 109 It was one evening, that a solitary fugitive, hard chased by an armed troop of the brothers of St. Hermandad, was seen emerging from a wrild and rocky defile, which opened abruptly on the gardens of a small, and, by the absence of fortifica¬ tion and sentries, seemingly deserted, castle. Behind him, in the exceeding stillness which characterises the air of a Spanish twilight, he heard, at a considerable distance, the blast of the horn and the tramp of hoofs. His pursuers, divided into several detachments, were scouring the country after him, as the fishermen draw their nets, from bank to bank, conscious that the prey they drive before the meshes cannot escape them at the last. The fugitive halted in doubt, and gazed round him : he was well-nigh exhausted; his eyes wrere blood-shot ; the large drops rolled fast down his brow ; his whole frame quivered and palpitated, like that of a stag wdien he stands at bay. Beyond the castle spread a broad plain, far as the eye could reach, without shrub or hollow to conceal his form : flight across a space so favourable to his pursuers was evidently in vain. No alternative was left, unless he turned back on the very path taken by the horsemen, or trusted to such scanty and perilous shelter as the copses in the castle garden might afford him. Ho decided on the latter refuge, cleared the low and lonely wall that girded the demesne, and plunged into a thicket of overhanging oaks and chestnuts. At that hour, and in that garden, by the side of a little fountain, were seated two females : the one of mature and somewhat advanced years ; the other, in the flower of virgin youth. But the flower was prematurely faded ; and neither the bloom, nor sparklo, nor undulating play of feature, that should have suited her age, was visible in the marble paleness and contemplative sadness of her beautiful countenance. “ Alas ! my young friend,” said the elder of these ladies, “ it is in these hours of solitude and calm that we are most deeply impressed with the nothingness of life. Thou, my sweet convert, art now the object, no longer of my compassion, but my envy ; and earnestly do I feel convinced of the blessed repose thy spirit will enjoy in the lap of the Mother Church. Happy are they who die young ; but thrice happy they who die in the spirit rather than the flesh : dead to sin, but not to virtue ; to terror, not to hope ; to man, but not to God ! ” “ Dear senora,” replied the young maiden, mournfully, “ wero I alone on earth, Heaven is my witness with what deep and thankful resignation I should take the holy vows, and forswear the past : but the heart remains human, how- 110 LEI LA. ovor divine tho liopo that it may cherish. And sometimes I start, and think of homo, of childhood, of my strange but beloved father, deserted and childless in his old age.” “Thine, Leila,” returned the elder seuora, “are but the sorrows our nature is doomed to. AVhat matter, whether absence or death sever the affections ? Thou lamentest a father; 1, a son, dead in the pride of his youth and beauty — a husband, languishing in the fetters of the Moor. Take comfort for thy sorrows, in the reflection that sorrow is the heritage of all.” hire Leila could reply, the orange-boughs that sheltered the spot where they sat were put aside, and between the women and the fountain stood tlio dark form of Almamen, the Israelite. Loila rose, shreikod, and flung herself, un¬ conscious, on his breast. “ 0 Lord of Israel ! ” cried Almamen, in a tone of deep anguish, “do I, then, at last regain my child ? Do I press her to my heart P and is it only for that brief moment, when I stand upon the brink of death ? Leila, my child, look up ! smile upon thy father : let him foel, on his maddening and burning brow, the sweet breath of the last of his race, and bear with him, at least, one holy and gentle thought to the dark grave.” “ My father ! is it indeed my father ? ” said Loila, recover¬ ing herself, and drawing back, that she might assure herself of that familiar face ; “it is thou! it is — it is! Oh! what blessed chance brings us together p ” “ That chance is the destiny that hurries mo to my tomb,” answered Almamon, solemnly. “Hark! hear you not the sound of their rushing steeds — their impatient voices? They are on me now ! ” “ Who P Of whom speakost thou? ” “ My pursuers — the horsemen of the Spaniard.” “ Oh, sonora, save him ! ” cried Loila, turning to Donna Inez, whom both father and child had hitherto forgotten, and who now stooil gazing upon Almamen with wondering and anxious eyes. “ Whither can ho fly ? The vaults of the castle may conceal him. This way hasten ! ” “ Stay," said Inez, trembling, and approaching close to Almamen : “ do 1 see aright ? and, amidst the dark change of years and trial, do 1 recognise that stately form, which once contrasted to the sad eye of a mother the drooping and faded form of her only son r Art thou not he who saved iny boy from the pestilence, who accompanied him to the shores LEILA. Ill of Naples, and consigned him to these arms ? Look on me ! dost thou not recall the mother of thy friend ? ” “ I recall thy features dimly and as in a dream,” answered the Hebrew ; “ and while thou speakest, there rush upon me the memories of an earlier time, in lands, where Leila lirst looked upon the day, and her mother sung to me at sunset, by the stream of the Euphrates, and on the sites of departed empires. Thy son — I remember now' : I had friendship then with a Christian — for I was still young.” “Waste not the time — father — seiiora!” cried Leila, impatiently clinging still to her father’s breast. “ You are right ; nor shall your sire, in whom I thus -wonderfully recognise my son’s friend, perish if I can save him.” Inez then conducted her strange guest to a small door in the rear of the castle ; and after leading him through some of the principal apartments, left him in one of the tiring-rooms, adjoining her own chamber, and the entrance to which the arras concealed. She rightly judged this a safer retreat than the vaults of the castle might afford, since her great name and known intimacy with Isabel would preclude all suspicion of her abetting in the escape of the fugitive, and keep those places the most secure in which, without such aid, he could not have secreted himself. In a few' minutes, several of the troop arrived at the castle, and on learning the name of its owner, contented themselves with searching the gardens, and the lower and more exposed apartments ; and then recommending to the servants a vigilant look-out, remounted, and proceeded to scour the plain, over w'hich now slowly fell the starlight and shade of night. When Leila stole, at last, to the room in which Almamen was hid, she found him, stretched on his mantle, in a deep sleep. Exhausted by all ho had undergone, and his rigid nerves, as it w'ere, relaxed by the sudden softness of that interview with his child, the slumber of that fiery wanderer was as calm as an infant’s. And their relation almost seemed reversed, and the daughter to be as a mother watching over her offspring, when Leila seated herself softly by him, fixing her eyes — to which the tears came ever, ever to be brushed away — upon his worn but tranquil features, made yet more serene by the quiet light that glimmered through the case¬ ment. And so passed the hours of that night ; and the father and the child — the meek convert, the revengeful fanatic — were under the same roof. 112 LEILA. CHAPTER TV. ALMAMEN HEARS AND SEES, RUT REFUSES TO RELIEVE ; FOR THE BRAIN, OVERWROUGHT, GROWS DULL, EVEN IN THE KEENEST, The dawn brolco slowly upon ibo cliambor, and Almanien still slept. It was the Sabbath of the Christians — that day on which the Saviour roso from the dead — thenco named so emphatically and sublimely, by the early Church, The Lord’s 1)ay.# And as the ray of tho sun flashed in the east, it fell, like a glory, over a crucifix, placed in the deep recess of tho Gothic casement ! and brought startlingly bofore tho eyes of Leila that face upon which tho rudest of tho Catholic sculptors rarely fail to preserve tho mystic and awful union of the ex¬ piring anguish of the man with the lofty patience of tho God. It looked upon her, that face ; it invited, it encouraged, while it thrilled and subdued. Sho stole gently from tho side of her father; sho crept to tho spot, aud flung herself on her knees beside tho consecrated image. “ Support me, O Redeemer ! ” she murmured — “ support thy creature ! strengthen her steps in the blessed path, though it divide her irrevocably from all (hat on earth she loves : and if thcro bo a sacrifice in her solemn choice, accept, 0 Thou, the Crucified ! accept it, in part atonement of the crime of her stubborn race ; and, hereafter, let the lips of a maiden of Judaea implore thee, not in vain, for some mitigation of the awful curse that hath fallen justly upon her tribe.” As, broken by low sobs, and in a choked and muttered voice, Leila poured forth her prayer, she was startled by a deep groan; and turning, in alarm, sho saw that Almameu had awaked, and, leaning on his arm, was now bending upon her his dark eyes, ouce more gleaming with all their wonted fire. “ Speak,” ho said, as sho cowcringly hid her face- “speak to me, or 1 shall be turned to stone by one horrid thought. It is not before that symbol that- thou knoelest in adoration ; and my sense wanders, if it tell mo that thy broken words ex¬ pressed the worship of an apostate ? In mercy, speak ? ” “ Father ! ” began Leila ; but her lips refused to utter more than that touching and holy word. Almamen roso ; and plucking the hands from her fact', * Before tho Christian era, the Sunday was, however, called the Lord'i day — i. e., tho day of the Lord the Sun. LEILA. 1 13 prized on her some moments, ns if ho would ponotrato her very soul ; and Leila, recovering her courage in tho pause, by degrees mot his eyes unquailing — her puro and ingenuous brow raised to his, and sadness, but not guilt, speaking from every line of that lovely face. “ Thou dost not tremble,” said Almamen, at length, break¬ ing the silence, “and I have erred. Thou art not the criminal I deemed tlioe. Come to my arms ! ” “Alas! ” said Leila, obeying the instinct, and easting her¬ self upon that rugged bosom, “ I will dare, at least, not to disavow my God. Father ! by that dread anathema which is on our race, which has made us homeless and powerless — out¬ casts and strangers in tho land ; by tho persecution and anguish we have known, teach thy lordly heart that we are rightly punished for tho persecution and tho anguish wo doomed to Him, whoso footsteps hallowed our native earth ! First, in the history op the world, did the stern Hebrews INFLICT UPON MANKIND THE AWFUL CRIME OF PERSECUTION FOR opinion’s sake. The seed wo sowed hath brought forth the Dead Sea fruit upon which wo feed. 1 asked for resignation and for hope : I looked upon yonder cross, and I found both. Harden not thy heart; listen to thy child; wise though thou be, and weak though her woman spirit, listen to me.” “13o dumb!” cried Almamen, in such a voice as might have come from tho elmrnel, so ghostly and deathly sounded its hollow tone; then, recoiling some steps, he placed both his hands upon his temples, and muttered, “ Mad, mad ! yes, yes, this is but a delirium, and 1 am tempted with a devil ! Oh, my child ! ” he resumed, in a voice that became, on tho sudden, inexpressibly tender and imploring, “ I have been sorely tried ; and I dreamt a feverish dream of passion and revenge. Be thino tho lips, and thino tho soothing hand, that shall wake mo from it. Let us fly for ever from those hated lands; let us leave to thoso miserable infidels their bloody contest, careless which shall fall. To a soil on which tho iron heel does not clang, to an air where man’s orisons rise, in solitude, to tho Great Jehovah, lot us hasten our weary stops. Como! while tho castle yet sleeps, let us forth unseen — the father and the child. We will hold sweet commune by the way. And hark ye, Leila,” ho added, in a low and abrupt whisper, “ talk not to me of yonder symbol ; for thy God is a jealous God, and hath no likeness in tho graven image.” Had he been less exhausted by long travail and racking thoughts, far different, perhaps, would luvvo been tho language i 111. LEILA. of a man so stern. But circumstance impresses tho hardest substance ! and despite his native intellect and affected supe¬ riority over others, no one, perhaps, was more human, in his fitful moods, — his weakness and his strength, his passion and his purpose, — than that strange man, who had dared in his dark studies and arrogant self-will, to aspire beyond humanity. That was, indeed, a perilous moment for the young convert. The unexpected softness of her father utterly subdued her ; nor was she sufficiently possessed of that all-denying zeal of the Catholic enthusiast to which every human tie, and earthly duty, ha,s been often sacrificed on tho shrine of a rapt and metaphysical piety. Whatever her opinions, her new creed, her secret desiro of the cloister, fed as it was by the sublime, though fallacious notion, that in her conversion, her sacrifice, the crimes of her race might be expiated in the eyes of Him whose death had been the great atonement of a world ; what¬ ever such higher thoughts and sentiments, they gave way, at that moment, to the irresistible impulse of household nature and of filial duty. Should she desert her father, and could that desertion be a virtue ? Her heart put and answered both questions in a breath. She approached Almamen, placed her hand in his, and said, steadily and calmly, “Father, wheresoever thou goest, I wall wend writh thee.” But Heaven ordained to each another destiny than might have been theirs, had the dictates of that impulse been ful¬ filled. Ere Almamen could reply, a trumpet sounded clear and loud at tho gate. “ Hark ! ” he said, griping his dagger, and starting back to ' a sense of tho dangers round him. “ They come — my pursuers and my murthcrers ! — but these limbs are sacred from tho rack.” Even that sound of ominous danger was almost a relief to Leila : “ I will go,” she said, “ and learn what tho blast be¬ tokens ; remain here — be camtious — I will return.” Several minutes , however, elapsed, before Leila re-appeared ; she was accompanied by Donna Inoz, wdioso paleness and agitation betokened her alarm. A courier had arrived at tho gate to announce the approach of the queen, who, with a con¬ siderable force, was on her way to join Ferdinand, then, in the usual rapidity of his movements, before one of the Moorish towns that had revolted from his allegiance. It was impossible for Almamen to remain in safety in the castle; and the only hope of escape was departing immediately and in disguise. LEILA. 115 “ I have,” she said, “ a trusty and faithful servant with me in the castle, to whom I can, without anxiety, confide the charge of your safety ; and even if' suspected by the way, my name, and the companionship of my servant, will remove all obstacles ; it is not a long journey hence to Guadix, which lias already revolted to the Moors : there, till the armies of Ferdinand surround the walls, your refuge may be secure.” Almamen remained for some moments plunged in a gloomy silence. But, at length, he signified his assent to the plan proposed, and Donna Inez hastened to give the directions to his intended guide. “ Leila,” said the Hebrew, when left alone with his daughter, “ think not that it is for mine own safety that I stoop to this flight from thee. No : but never till thou wert lost to me, by mine own rash confidence in another, did I know how dear to my heart was the last scion of my race, the sole memorial left to me of thy mother’s love. Regaining thee once more, a new and a soft existence opens upon my eyes; and the earth seems to change, as by a sudden revolution, from winter into spring. For thy sake, I consent to use all the means that man’s intellect can devise, for preservation from my foes. Meanwhile, here will rest my soul ; to this spot, within one week from this period — no matter through what danger I pass — I shall return : then I shall claim thy promise. I will arrange all things for our flight, and no stone shall harm thy footstep by the wray. The Lord of Israel be with thee, my daughter, and strengthen thy heart ! But,” he added, tearing himself from her embrace, as he heard steps ascending to the chamber, “ deem not that, in this most fond and fatherly affection, I forget what is due to me and thee. Think not that my love is only the brute and in¬ sensate feeling of the progenitor to the offspring : I love thee for thy mother’s sake — I love thee for thine own — I love thee yet more for the sake of Israel. If thou perish, if thou art lost to us, thou, the last daughter of the house of Issachar, then the haughtiest family of God’s great people is extinct.” Here Inez appeared at the door, but withdrew, at the im¬ patient and lordly gesture of Almamen, who, without further heed of the interruption, resumed : “I look to thee, and thy seed, for the regeneration which I once trusted, fool that I was, mine own day might see effected. Let this pass. Thou art under the roof of the Nazarene. I will not believe that the arts wc have resisted against fire and sword can prevail with thee. But, if I err, awful will bo the LKtLA. 1 la penalty ! Could I onco know that thou hadst forsaken thy ancestral creed, though warrior and priest stood by thco, though thousands and fen thousands were by thy right hand, Ibis steel should save f ho race of Issachar from dishonour. Howard Thou woepcst; but child, 1 warn, not threaten, (i od be wit h tlioo ! " llo wrung the cold hand of liis cliild, turned to the door, and, after such disguise as the brief time allowed him could a, fiord, quitted the castle with his Spanish guide, who, accus¬ tomed to the benevolence of his mistress, obeyed her injunc¬ tion without wonder, though not without suspicion. The third part of an hour had scarcely elapsed, and thosnn was yet on the mountain- tops, when Isabel arrived. She came to announce that the outbreaks of the Moorish towns in the vicinity rendered tho half fortified castle of her friend no longer a, secure abode; and she honoured the Spanish lady with a command to accompany her, with her female suite, to the camp of Ferdinand. Leila, received the intelligence with a, kind of stupor. Jler interview with her father, tho strong and fearful contests of emotion which that interview occasioned, left her senses faint and dizzy ; and when she found herself, by the twilight star, once more with tho train of Isabel, tho only feeling that stirred actively through her stunned and bewildered mind, was, that the hand of i’rovidonco conducted her from a temp¬ tation that, the Header of all hearts knew, tho daughter and woman would have been too feeble to resist. On the lil lb day from his departure, Almamen returned — to find tho castle deserted, and his daughtor gone. CHAPTER V. IN TTTHJ FERMENT OK Cl HEAT EVENTS THE DREGS ARISE. The Israelites did not limit their struggles to tho dark con¬ spiracy to which allusion has been made. In some of I ho Moorish towns that revolted from Ferdinand, they renounced the neutrality they had hitherto maintained between Christian and Moslem. Whether it was i hat t hay were inflamed by t he lea, rial and wholesale barbarities enforced by Ferdinand and tho Inquisition against their Iribo or whether they were LEILA. 117 stirred up by one of their own order, in whom was recognised the head of their most sacred family ; or whether, as is most probable, both causes combined — certain it is, that they mani¬ fested a feeling that was thoroughly unknown to the ordinary habits and policy of that peaceable people. They bore great treasure to the public stock — they demanded arms, and, under their own leaders, were admitted, though with much jealousy and precaution, into the troops of the arrogant and disdainful Moslems. In this conjunction of hostile planets, Ferdinand had recourse to his favourite policy of wile and stratagem. Turn¬ ing against the Jews the very treaty Almamen had once sought to obtain in their favour, he caused it to be circulated, privately, that the Jews, anxious to purchase their peace with him, had promised to betray the Moorish towns, and Granada itself, into his hands. The paper, which Ferdinand himself had signed in his interview with Almamen, and of which, on the capture of the Hebrew, he had taken care to re-possess himself, ho gave to a spy, whom he sent, disguised as a Jew, into one of the revolted cities. Private intelligence reached the Moorish ringleader of the arrival of this envoy. He was seized, and the document found on his person. The form of the words drawn up by Almamen (who had carefully omitted mention of his own name — whether that which he assumed, or that which, by birth, he should have borne) merely conveyed the compact, that if by a Jew, within two weeks from the date therein specified, Granada was delivered to the Christian king, the Jews should enjoy certain immunities and rights. The discovery of this document filled the Moors of the city to which the spy had been sent, with a fury that no words can describe. Always distrusting their allies, they now imagined they perceived the sole reason of their sudden enthusiasm, of their demand for arms. The mob rose : the principal Jews were seized and massacred without trial; some by the wrath of the multitude, some by the slower tor¬ tures of the magistrate. Messengers were sent to the different revolted towns, and, above all, to Granada itself, to put the Moslems on their guard against these unhappy enemies of either party. At once covetous and ferocious, the Moors rivalled the Inquisition in their cruelty, and Ferdinand in their extortion. It was the dark fate of Almamen, as of most premature and heated liberators of the enslaved, to double the terrors 118 LEILA. and ilio evils ho had sought to cure. Tho warning arrived at Granada ah ntimo in which the vi'/.ior, Jusef, had rocoivcd tho comma nds of his royal master, still at tho siege of Salobrefia, to 1 1 so every exertion to lill tlio wanting treat-air ion. Fearful of now oxaotioriH against Ilio Moors, tho vizier hailed, as a message from I leaven, so just a pretext for a now and sweep¬ ing impost on ilio .lows. Tho spendthrift violence of the mob wu.s restrained, beoauso it was headed by tho authorities, who wore wisely anxious that tho state should have no rival in tho plunder it required ; and tho work of confiscation and robbery was carried on with a majestic and calm regularity, which redounded no less to tho credit of Jusof than it contributed to tho coffers of tho king. It was late, one evening, when Ximen was making his usual round through the chambers of Aim amen’s house. As ho glanced around at tho various articles of wonlth and luxury, he, ever and anon, burst into a low fitful chuckle, rubbed bis lean hands, and mumbled out, — “If my master should die! if my master should die! ” While thus engaged, ho heard a confused and distant shout ; and, listening attentively, he distinguished a cry, grown of lain sullieienlly familiar, of, “ Live, .lusof the just — perish tho traitor .lews ! ” “ Ah!” said Ximen, as tho whole character of his faeo changed: “some new robbery upon our race! And this is thy work, son of Issachar! Madman that thou wort, to be wiser Ilian thy sires, and seek to dupe tho idolaters in tho council chamber and tho camp — their Held, their vantage- ground ; as tho bazaar and tho market-place are ours. None suspect that tho potent wanton is tho traitor Jow; but I know it! I could give thee to the bow-string — and, if thou wort dead, all thy goods and gold, oven to the mule at I lie manger, would be old Xinum’s.” lie paused at that thought, shut his eyes, and smiled at Ilio prospect his fancy conjured up ; and completing his survey, retired to his own chamber, which opened, by a small door, upon one of tho back courts. I le had scarcely reached tho room, when he heard a low lap at tho outer door; and, when it was thrice repeated, he know that it was one of his Jewish brethren. For Ximen ub years, isolal ion, and avarice gnawed away whatever of virtue once put forth some meagre fruit from a heart naturally bare and rocky- still preserved one human feeling towards his countrymen. It was the bond which unites all tho persecuted : and Ximen loved them, LEILA. 119 because he could not envy their happiness. The power — the knowledge — the lofty, though wild designs of his master, stung and humbled him — he secretly hated, because he could not compassionate or contemn him. But the bowed frame, and slavish voice, and timid nerves of his crushed brother¬ hood, presented to the old man the likeness of things that could not exult over him. Debased, and aged, and solitary as he was, he felt a kind of wintry warmth in the thought that even he had the power to protect ! He thus maintained an intercourse with his fellow Israelites ; and often, in their dangers, had afforded them a refuge in the numerous vaults and passages, the ruins of which may still be descried beneath the mouldering foundations of that mysterious mansion. And, as the house was generally supposed the property of an absent emir, and had been especially recommended to the care of the cadis by Boabdil, who alone of the Moors knew it as one of the dwelling-places of the santon, whose ostensible residence wras in apartments allotted to him within the palace, — it was, perhaps, the sole place within Granada which afforded an unsuspected and secure refuge to the hunted Israelites. When Ximen recognised the wonted signal of his brethren, he crawled to the door ; and, after the precaution of a Hebrew watchword, replied to in the same tongue, he gave admittance to the tall and stooping frame of the rich Elias. “ Worthy and excellent master ! ” said Ximen, after again securing the entrance ; “ what can bring the honoured and wealthy Elias to the chamber of the poor hii'eling ? ” “ My friend,” answered the Jew ; “ call me not wealthy, nor honoured. For years I have dwelt within the city ; safe and respected, even by the Moslemin ; verily and because I have purchased, with jewels and treasure, the protection of the king and the great men. But now, alas ! in the sudden wrath of the heathen — ever imagining vain things — I have been summoned into the presence of their chief rabbi, and only escaped the torture, by a sum that ten years of labour and the sweat of my brow cannot replace. Ximen ! the bitterest thought of all is, that the frenzy of one of our own tribe has brought this desolation upon Israel.” “ My lord speaks riddles,” said Ximen, with well-feigned astonishment in his glassy eyes. “ Why dost thou wind and turn, good Ximen ? ” said the Jew, shaking his head ; “ thou knowest well what my words drive at. Thy master is the pretended Almamen ; and that MSI LA. iao ri'tu'citii I, Israelite (if larnolito, indeed, still bo ono wlio hath forsaken I lia customs a, ml Mm forms of Inn forefathers) in lio who lirtMi stirred up Mm .lews of (lordova and ( Juadi.v, and whose fully I m Id i brought ii|ihm iih these droad things. Holy Abraham! this .low hath cost inn morn than fifty Nazar ouch and ii linndivd Mnot’H. Xinmn remained silent; a, nil, Mm tongue nf Elias lining InuHnd by I Im recollection of his him I Iiinh, Mm laltnr eotinued : “ A t Mm Unit, wlmn tlm nun of Isaachnr ro-uppeared, and be¬ came a counsellor in Mm king'll court, I indeed, who had led Mini, limn a nliild, to llio synagogue for old Issaehar was to mo dear as a brother recognised Mini by bin eyes and voice: but I exulted In Inn craft and concealment ; I believed bn would work mighty khingN for Min poor brethren, and would obtain, for Ida lather’ii friend, Mm supply ing of tlm king’H wives and concubines with raiment and (doth of price. Mill, yearn have panned bo hath not lightened our burtbcim ; and, by I bi) niail noun that hath of late con in over him, beading the lieal bon a rin icH, and drawing our brethren info danger and death, Im bath deHerved tlm curse of tlm ay nngogiie, and the wrath of our wliolo race. I (bid, from our brethren who cHcaped the hiuiiiiiil ion by llm Hiirrendnr of their substance, that Inn 1 1 1 1 a k ill til and frantic KelicnmH were the main pretext, for the Hiil’feringH of Mm righfeouH under the Nazareno; and, again, file Niuiii' aelienma bring on iih the name oppression from Mm Moor. AoourNod be be, and may Ida name perish I " Xinmn aiglmd, but remained aileiif, conjecturing to what end the dew would bring Ida invoel ivea. I le was not long in HiiajiciiHc. A tier u pause, Elias reconinmneed, in an allured and more care less tone, “ lie in rich, tliia aon of lasacbar — wondrous rich,” “ I Mi baa I I'oaaurcH seal lured over half I, ho cities of Africa a lid Mm ( Iriont,” aa id X mien. “ Tliou sei'st, flu'll, my friend, fbaf thy master bulb doomed me to a heavy loss. I possess bin secret, ; I could give him up to the king’s wrath; I could bring him M* tlm death. Hut I am jnsl and meek : let him pay my forfeiture, and 1 will forego mine auger." “ Tliou (loaf not know him," said Xinion, alarmed at tlm Mump, Id, of a repayment, which might grievously diminish bis own heritage of A Imu nmii’a effect s in (Irauada. " Hut if I threaten him with exposure?" I Imu wouhb. I Iced the llsbes ol the Ibirro," interrupted X i incn. “ Nay, even now, if Aluuimeu learn that tliou I TULA. knowost 1 > in birth it, ml race, tremble! for Uty days in !,1io lit ml will In' numbered.” “ Verily,” exclaimed tho Jew, in groat alarm, “ limit have I In I Ion i 1 1 l,o Mm hiiii ro ; for those lipH rovonlcd to liim lliat know lodge.” Tlmn in tho righteous IOIIivh a IohI, man, within ton days from that in wltirli Alma, limit rolurns to (Iratiada, I know my mastor: tvn.il hlootl iH to liim ii,h wider.” “ lait tint wicked bo ooiiHrimod I ” ot’iod 121 ins, furiously, stamping Ida foot, wliilo I i ro llaslmd from It in dark eyes, for tlm instinct of solf-proMorvnliim made him I’mron. “ Not from mo, howovor,” Ini added, morn oiilmly, “ will ooino bin danger. Know that tlim'o Im moro than a linndrod .lows in t h iH oily, who liavo sworn bin deal b ; .lows who, Hying billmr from (kirdova, liavo soon fltoir paroiitH mtirdorod and Mini r hiiIi- Hfanoo soi/cil, and who I to 1 1 o Id , in tho son of Issaohar, 1,1m on 1 1 Ho of tho mnrdor and tho spoil. Tlmy liavo dofoolod tlm impostor, and a linndrod knivos aro whetting ovmt now for bis blood lot bint look to if. Xinmn, I liavo spoken to flmo iih Mm foolinb apeak ; flam mayesf bofray mo to I, by lord bill, from wbal I liavo loarimd of I, boo from oar brol broil, I liavo pou roi I my Imarl into I, by bosom without four. Will, Mum bofray Israel, or assist ns to smile llm traitor P " X imoii miiMod for a moment,, and bin mndifafinn non jn rod up Mil' Iron, an roN of bin muster. I lo stretched fnrfb bis rigid, band l.o klius; and wlmn llm larimliloH park'd, limy worn frionds. 01 f A I’TI1’, It VI. in )A III >1 1,’rt RICTIIIIN, I’ll 10 RU-AI'I'IIA RANCH) OF F 10 111)1 NAN li HIOFOIf I! (I IIAN A DA. Tin,; (bird morning from this interview, a rumour readied ( I rnnndn flint Itoabdil bad boon repulsed in bis assault on tlm oifiulol of Halobrofla svifli a severe Iohh : flint llornandodol l’ulgar bad auooeodod in conducting to its relief a considerable fmvo | and Mail, Mm army of Kordinand was on its march against tlm Moorish king. In Mm midst of llm oxoitomonf occasioned by those rcpnrfn, a courier arrived lo oonlirm llmir truth, and lo aniiommo Mm return of lloabdil. At nightfall, Mm king, preceding bin army, entered flic oily, and luislonod to Imry himself in tlm Alhambra. As Im 122 LEILA. passed, dejectedly, into the women’s apartments, his stern mother met him. “ My son,” she said, bitterly, “ dost thou return, and not a conqueror ? ” Before Boabdil could reply, a light and rapid step sped through the glittering arcades ; and weeping with joy, and breaking all the Oriental restraints, Amine fell upon his bosom. “My beloved! my king! light of mine eyes! thou hast returned. Welcome — for thou art safe.” The different form of these several salutations struck Boabdil forcibly. “ Thou seest, my mother,” said he, “ how great the contrast between those who love us from affection, and those who love us from pride. In adversity, God keep me, 0 my mother, from thy tongue ! ” “ But I love thee from pride, too,” murmured Amine ; “ and for that reason is thine adversity dear to me, for it takes thee from the world to make thee more mine own : and I am proud of the afflictions that my hero shares with his slave.” “ Lights there, and the banquet ! ” cried the king, turning from his haughty mother ; “ we will feast and be merry while we may. My adored Amine, kiss me ! ” Proud, melancholy, and sensitive as he was in that horn1 of reverse, Boabdil felt no grief : such balm has Love for our sorrows, when its wings are borrowed from the dove ! And although the laws of the Eastern life confined to the narrow walls of a harem the sphere of Amine’s gentle influence ; although, even in romance, the natural compels us to portray her vivid and rich colours only in a faint and hasty sketch, yet still are left to the outline the loveliest and the noblest features of the sex — the spirit to arouse us to exertion, the softness to console us in our fall ! While Boabdil and the body of the army remained in the city, Muza, with a chosen detachment of the horse, scoured the country to visit the newly-acquired cities, and sustain their courage. From this charge he was recalled by the army of Ferdinand, which once more poured down into the Vega, completely de¬ vastated its harvests, and then swept back to consummate the conquests of the revolted towns. To this irruption succeeded an interval of peace — the calm before the storm. From every part of Spain, the most chivalric and resolute of the Moors, taking advantage of the pause in the contest, flocked to Gra¬ nada ; and that city beeamo tho focus of all that paganism in Europe possessed of brave and determined spirits. LEILA. 123 At length, Ferdinand, completing his conquests, and having relillod his treasury , mustered the whole foreo of his dominions forty thousand foot, and ton thousand horse ; and once more, and for the last time, appeared beforo tho walls of (Iranada. A solemn and prophotio detenu i nation filled both besiegers and besieged : ouob felt that the crowning crisis was at hand. CIIAPTEB YII. THE CONFLAGRATION. — THE MAJESTY OF AN INDIVIDUAL l’ASSION IN THE MIDST OE HOSTILE THOUSANDS. It was t he eve of a groat and general assault upon Granada, deliberately planned by tho chiefs of the Christian army. The Spanish camp (the most gorgeous Christendom had ever known) gradually grow calm and hushed. Tho shades deepened — tho stars burned forth more serene and clear. Bright, in that azure air, streamed the silken tents of the court, blazoned with heraldic devices, and crowned by gaudy banners, which, tilled by a brisk and murmuring wind from t he mountains, Haunted gaily on their gilded staves. In tho centre of tho camp rose tho pavilion of the queen — a palace in itself. Lances made its columns; brocade and painted arras, its walls ; and the space covered by its numerous com¬ partments, would have contained tho halls and outworks of an ordinary castle. Tho pomp of that camp realised the wildest dreams of Gothic, coupled with Oriental splendour; something worthy of a Tasso to have imagined, or a Bockford to create. Nor was the exceeding costliness of tho moro courtly tents lessoned in effect by those of the soldiery in tho outskirts, many of which wore built from boughs, still re¬ taining their leaves salvage and picturesque huts; — as if, realising old legends, wild men of the woods had taken up tho cross, and followed tho Christian warriors against tho swarthy followers of Termagaunt and Mahound. There, then, ex¬ tended that mighty camp in profound repose, as tho midnight threw deeper and longer shadows over the sward from tho tented avenues and canvas streets. It was at that hour that Isabel, in the most private recess of her pavilion, was employed in prayer for the safety of the king, and the issue of tho Sacred War. Kneeling before the altar of that warlike oratory, her spirit became rapt and absorbed from earth iu I - 1 : 1 1 ,A . Mil thn intoiinity of her dnvotioiin ; ami In thu wlmln camp (navo llm drill I ioll ), Mm uye.l el 1.1 111,1. | >i< Mill ((lll'i'll with, | irrllll | in, I lie only nimn iiucIohuiI. All wan profoundly Hl,ill ; Imr gnnrilH, In- r a 1 1 r iiiIii n I n, wri'n goon In mil,; and Min I, rnn.il of I ho Him I mil, w i 1 1 1< mi I, Mini, imniniinn |iiivilnm, wan mil, linanl through llln mil. mi wal In II wan I, linn Mini, IniiJml nmldniily I’nll, n, idriing group ii|hhi Imr m 1 1< M il (I i it H nlm nl, ill I. imll, liy Mm all, ar. A I'ainl, Nlirink I mi rut. I mill Imr lipii ; nlm Minimi, ami 1,1m lirnail nui'vud kiiil’o of mi nidi i ni warrior glnainod nlunn linfurn Imr nyon. “ line, lit ill, Inr a, cry, lirnnMi morn loudly Mian I liy wind, and, i|imnn though I, lion n. rl , in till) oontro of Hwarming thou- nmtiln, Minn dinnl, I " Hurli wnrn llm wnrdn Mini roitnlmd Min nar nl’ 11m royal ('mu I i 1 1 1 1 1 1 , vv 1 1 Im | >nri ’il liy a man of iil.nrn and nnminmidiug, though haggard iiMport. “ VV hat in Miy 1 1 1 1 r | n *tu < V wmildnl, llnni niurdnr um?" Ha id Min qimnii, trninldiug, |inrlin,|ni for Mm Unit limn, hoforn a, niinial proNonon " Thy I i I'n in i n i In, if I lion nlrivonl not In nlmln or to dnnnivn nm < ) 1 1 r I mm in ulmrl annwrr nm. I am Almanmii, Mm llilirrw VVImrn hi llm Inmtngn rninlnrnd In Mi y 1111111111? I (liiiin my nl 1 i Id. Him in with Mien— I know il. In wind norimr nl thy ramp.'' " Itinln iil rnngnr I " Maid Inahul, roenvnring Honmwlud from Imr alarm, 11 thy ilaughtor in rninovml, I trnnt Inr ever, from Ilium iniliioiiH rnimli. Him in not within llm oani|i." " Min nut, (,hmnn of (In.ntiln," Maid Almanmii, ra i H i 1 1 g liin t nil'o ; " fur ilnyn anil wnnl.n I liavu I rai'knil I liy nlu|in, followed Miy inarnli, liumdnd nvun thy mIuiiiIii'I’h, though mini nl ninil ntiind ml gnardn aruniul tlmm ; and I know that my ilaughtor linn Imtni with limn. Think nut I liravu Mi in (langur without mnolvuM l lm munt llnruu and drnail. AiiMwnr nm I whom in my i'h i It I ? " "Many diiyn iiinuu," Maid Inaliol, awod, doMpito Imrnolf, hy Imr MtriUlgn pimitinll, "l.liy (laughter left I lie damp Ini' llm Imiinn of (Imi II wan her own ilouirn. Thu Saviour lint h rnuuivuil Imr into Inn fold." I hid n, thniiMiind Inimnn pinrnnd Ida heart, tlm vigour and euorgy nl I i I'm nuiild nniuvn morn MUildoidy liavu dnurloil A I mu iiimii Tim rigid iiiumqIom of Ida nuiidonnnen mln\ud id oui’o, from n iiiMn mid muiumu, into imutlornlilo hnrrnr, imgiiinh, mill (Impair lie ronoilnil nuvurul alcpa; hi; knnru trumhlud violently , hu imuiimd hIuiiiumI hy a ihnlh hluw. MM la. iar» Isabel, tilio boldest ami huuglil neat of 1 1 < ' t • sex, seized Limit moment of reprieve; Him sprung forward, darted through flm d raperies into Um upurl iimnl-H occupied by her lii’iiin, mid, in a moment, the ] in v i 1 ion resounded with liar erica lor aid. Tlio HcniinrlH wore armiHod ; retainers sprang from their pillows ; they board flm caiiHo of the alarm ; limy inn, do Lo I bo Mjml, ; wlion, oro limy rone bod ila partition of 1 1 ilk, a vivid and startling blaze burst forth upon I, bom. Tbo Imd, wiih on lire. rl'lm materials IVd llm flame like magic. Some ol flm guards bad yot tbo courago to dash forward ; but I lie smoke and tbo glaro drove tlmm bank, blinded and di/./.y. Isabel boraolf bad Hoarooly timo for onoapo, ho rapid wa,H tbo conflagration. Alarmed lor Imr husband, slm niHlmd lo bis tent- lo lind bim already awakom'd by tbo noise, ami issuing from itH entrance, bin drawn Hword in bin band. Tbo wind, wbirb laid a, few minnlcH before bill, curb'd tbo trinmpbanl, bannerH, now eiren lalcd flm destroying flame. If apron, d from tent to lotil, almost aa a Hash id' lightning I, bat shoots along neighbouring elomla. T' bo camp was in one coni innod blaze, ere any man could dream of (dice-king flm conflagration. Nof waiting to bear flm confused fain of Ida royal conaorl, Ferdinand, exclaiming, “ The Mooch bavo done lb in I bey will bo on ua ! ” ordered file drama to beat and llm trumpets to sound, and hastened in perron, wrapped merely in Iiih long mantle, to alarm Ida obiel’a. Wbile that well -disciplined and veteran army, fearing every moment flm rally of flm foe, endeavoured rapidly lo form fbemaelvea info Homo kind of order, flm llunic continued to apread until I, be whole beavena were illumined. Ily itH light, cuirass and belmef glowed, aa in the furnace, and the armed men acemcd ra, flier like life like and lurid nmteora Ilian human forma. The city of (Iranada waa brought near to tliem by tbo infenaify of flm glow ; and, aa a detachment id’ cavalry apurred from I lie camp to meet I lie anticipated anrpriao of flm 1‘aynima, they aavv, upon flm walla and roofa of Granada, tbo Moalema obiaferiug, and I Imir spears gleaming. Hut, eipially amazed with flm ('briafiaim, and eipially snapicioua of craft and design, flm Moora did nof iaatic from I Imir galea. Mean while the conllngral ion, aa rapid to die aa to begin, grew lil I ul and feeble; and the night acemcd to fall with a, melancholy darkness over flm ruin of that silken city. I'Vrdinnml summoned bis council, lie bad now perceived if waa no ambush of llm Moora. Tim account of Isabel, which, lit Imd, be comprehended ; llm al range and almost miraculous 126 LEILA. manner in which Almamon had battled l»is guards, and pene¬ trated to tho royal tent; might have aroused his Gothic su¬ perstition, while it relieved his more earthly apprehensions, if ho had not remembered tho singular, but far from superna¬ tural, dexterity” with which Eastern warriors, and oven robbers, continued then, as now, to elude tho most, vigilant precautions, and bafllo tho most wakeful guards; and it was evident, that tho fire which burned tho camp of an army, had been kindlod merely to gratify tho revenge, or favour tho escape of an individual. Shaking, therefore, from his kingly spirit tho thrill of superstitious awe that tho greatness of the disaster, when associated with the name of a sorcerer, at first occasioned, ho resolved to make advantage out. of misfortune itself. Tho excitement, tho wrath of tho troops, produced t he temper most fit for action. “And Heaven,” said tho King of Spain to his knights and chiefs, as they assembled round him, “ has, in this conflagra¬ tion, announced to the warriors of t he Cross, that henceforth their camp shall bo tho palaces of Granada! Wo to tho Moslem with to-morrow’s sun ! ” Arms clanged, and swords leaped from their sheaths, as tho Christian knights echoed tho anathema — “Wo to the Moslem ! ” BOOK V. ♦ CHAPTER f. Till'] OtlMAT 1 1 ATT t . If). Til 10 day slowly claw nod upon Mini, awful night; and l.lm Moors, nl 'll upon I lit) battlements of ( Iranmla, behold I Im wliolo army of Ferdinand on i I h niaroli towards their walls. At a distaneo lay the wrecks of Mm blackened and smouldering camp; wldlo before l.lmm, gaudy and glittering ponnmiH waving, and trunipots Sounding, oamo Mm exultant legions of l.ho foe. Tlm Mooch could scarcely believe their Houses. Fondly anticipating Mm refroal, of Mm ( IlirisfiaiiH, after so signal it. disaster, Urn guy and da///, ling spectacle of tlmir march to the assault filled them with consternation and alarm. While yet wondering and inactive, the trumpet of lloabdil was heard behind ; and they behold the Moorish king, at tlm head of his guardH, emerging down I ho a venues that led to tlio gate. The sight restored and exhilarated the gazers ; and, when lloabdil halted in the space before the portals, the shout of twenty thousand warriors rose ominously to the ears of the advancing Christians. “ Men of (1 ranada 1 ’’ said lloabdil, as soon as the deep and breathless silence Imd succeeded to that martial acclamation, “tlm advance of the enemy is to their destruction I Jn the lire of last night, the hand of Allah wrote their doom. Met us forth, each and all I We will leave our homes unguarded our hearts sladl ho their wall I True, that our numbers are thinned l>y famine and by slaughter, Imt enough of us are yet left for tlm redemption of (I rnrindu. Nor are the dead departed from us: tlm dead light with iih their soiiIh auiuiato one own. lie who has lost a brother, becomes twice a man. On this battle we will set all. Liberty or elm, ins! empire or exile I victory or death I Forward ! ” I lo spoke, and gavo I ho rein to bis barb. It bounded for¬ ward, and cleared tlm gloomy arch of tlm portals, and lloabdil LEILA 128 el Cliieo was the first Moor who issued from Granada, to that last and eventful field. Out, then, poured, as a river tlml rushes from caverns into day, the burnished and serried files ol’ the Moorish cavalry. Muza eamo the last, closing the array. Upon his dark and stern countenance t here spoke not. the ardent enthusiasm of tho sanguine king, It was loektal and rigid ; and the anxieties of the last dismal weeks had thinned his cheeks, and ploughed deep lines around tho firm lips and iron jaw which bespoko tho obstinate and unconquer¬ able resolution of his character. As Muza now spurred forward, and, riding along the wheel¬ ing ranks, marshalled them in order, arose tho acclamation of female voices ; and tho warriors, who looked back at the sound, saw that their women their wives and daughters, their mothers and their beloved, (released from their seclusion, by a policy which bespoke the desperation of tho cause)— were gazing at them, with outstretched arms, from the battle¬ ments and towers. Tho Moors knew that they wore now to tight for their hearths and altars in tho presence of those w ho, if they failed, became slaves and harlots ; and each Moslem felt his heart harden like the steel of his own sabre. While tho cavalry formed themselves into regular squadrons, and tho tramp of tho foemon came more near and near, the Moorish infantry, in miscellaneous, eager, and undisciplined bands, poured out, until, spreading wido and deep below the walls, Boabdil’s charger was seen, rapidly careering amongst them, as, in short but distinct directions, or fiery adjurat ion, ho sought at once to regulate their movements, and confirm their hot but capricious valour. Meanwhile the Christians had abruptly halted; anil the politic Ferdinand resolved not to incur the full brunt of a whole population, in the first flush of their enthusiasm and despair, lie summoned to his side Hernando del Bulgur, and bade him, with a troop of tho most adventurous and practised horsemen, advance towards the Moorish cavalry, and endeavour to draw the fiery valour of Muza away from the main army. Then, splitting up his force into several sections, ho dismissed each to different stations; some to storm tho adjacent, towers, of, lid’s to fire tho surrounding gardens and orchards: so that, the action might consist rather of many batt les t han of one, and tho Moors might, lose the concentration and union, which made, at present, their most formidable strength. Thus, w hile the Mussulmans were waiting, in order for the attack, they suddenly beheld the main body of tho Christians LEILA. 129 dispersing; and, while yet in surprise and perplexed, they saw the fires breaking out from their delicious gardens, to the right and left of the walls, and heard the boom of the Chris¬ tian artillery against the scattered bulwarks that guarded tho approaches of that city. At that moment, a cloud of dust rolled rapidly towards the post occupied in the van by Muza ; and the shock of the Christian knights, in their mighty mail, broko upon tho centre of the prince’s squadron. Higher, by several inches, than the plumage of his com¬ panions, waved the crest of the gigantic del Pulgar ; and, as Moor after Moor went down before his headlong lance, his voice, sounding deep and sepulchral through his visor, shouted out — “ Death to the infidel ! ” The rapid and dexterous horsemen of Granada were not, however, discomfited by this fierce assault : opening their ranks with extraordinary celerity, they suffered the charge to pass, comparatively harmless, through their centre, and then, closing in one long and bristling line, cut off the knights from retreat. The Christians wheeled round, and charged again upon their foe. “ Where art thou, 0 Moslem dog ! that wouldst play the lion ? — Where art thou, Muza Ben Abil Gazan P ” “ Before thee, Christian ! ” cried a stern and clear voice ; and, from amongst the helmets of his people, gleamed tho dazzling turban of the Moor. Hernando checked his steed, gazed a moment at his foe, turned back, for greater impetus to his charge, and, in a moment more, the bravest warriors of the two armies met, lance to lance. The round shield of Muza received the Christian’s weapon ; his own spear shivered, harmless, upon tho breast of the giant. He drew his sword, whirled it rapidly over his head, and, for some minutes, the eyes of the bystanders could scarcely mark the marvellous rapidity with which strokes were given and parried by those redoubted swordsmen. At length, Hernando, anxious to bring to bear his superior strength, spurred close to Muza ; and, leaving his sword pendant by a thong to his wrist, seized the shield of Muza in his formidable grasp, and plucked it away, with a force that the Moor vainly endeavoured to resist : Muza, therefore, suddenly released his hold ; and, ere the Spaniard recovered his balance (which was lost by the success of his own strength, put forth to the utmost), he dashed upon him the hoofs of his K LEILA. 130 black charger, and, with a short but heavy mace, which he caught up from the saddle-bow, dealt Hernando so thundering a blow upon the helmet, that the giant fell to the ground, stunned and senseless. To dismount, to repossess himself of his shield, to resume his sabre, to put one knee to the breast of his fallen foe, was the work of a moment; and then had Don Hernando del Pulgar been sped, without priest or surgeon, but that, alarmed by the peril of their most valiant comrade, twenty knights spurred at once to the rescue, and the points of twenty lances kept the Lion of Granada from his prey. Thither, with similar speed, rushed the Moorish champions ; and the fight became close and deadly round the body of the still un¬ conscious Christian. Hot an instant of leisure to unlace the helmet of Hernando, by removing which, alone, the Moorish blade could find a mortal place, was permitted to Muza ; and, what with the spears and trampling hoofs around him, the situation of the Paynim was more dangerous than that of the Christian. Meanwhile, Hernando recovered his dizzy senses ; and, made aware of his state, watched his occasion, and sud¬ denly shook off the knee of the Moor. With another effort he was on his feet : and the two champions stood confronting each other, neither very eager to renew the combat. But on foot, Muza, daring and rash as he was, could not but recognise his disadvantage against the enormous strength and impene¬ trable armour of the Christian ; he drew back, whistled to his barb, that, piercing the ranks of the horsemen, was by his side on the instant, remounted, and was in the midst of the foe, almost ere the slower Spaniard was conscious of his dis¬ appearance. But Hernando was not delivered from his enemy. Clea- ing a space around him, as three knights, mortally wounded, fell beneath his sabre, Muza now drew from behind his Bhoulder his short Arabian bow ; and shaft after shaft came rattling upon the mail of the dismounted Christian with so marvellous a celerity, that, encumbered as he was with his heavy accoutrements, he was unable either to escape from the spot, or ward off that arrowy rain ; and felt that nothing but chance, or our Lady, could prevent the death which one such arrow would occasion, if it should find the opening of the visor, or the joints of the hauberk. “ Mother of Mercy ! ” groaned the knight, perplexed and enraged, “ let not thy servant be shot down like a hart, by LEILA. 131 this cowardly warfare ; but, if I must fall, be it with mine enemy, grappling hand to hand.” While yet muttering this short invocation, the war-cry of Spain was heard hard by, and the gallant company of Villena was seen scouring across the plain, to the succour of their comrades. The deadly attention of Muza was distracted from individual foes, however eminent ; he wheeled round, re-collected his men, and, in a serried charge, met the new enemy in midway. While the contest thus fared in that part of the field, the scheme of Ferdinand had succeeded so far as to break up the battle in detached sections. Far and near, plain, grove, garden, tower, presented each the scene of obstinate and determined conflict. Boabdil, at the head of his chosen guard, the flower of the haughtier tribe of nobles, who were jealous of the fame and blood of the tribe of Muza, and followed also by his gigantic Ethiopians, exposed his person to every peril, with the desperate valour of a man who feels his own stake is greatest in the field. As he most distrusted the infantry, so, amongst the infantry he chiefly bestowed his presence ; and, wherever he appeared, he sufficed, for the moment, to turn the changes of the engagement. At length, at mid-day, Ponce de Leon led against the largest detachment of the Moorish foot a strong and numerous battalion of the best disciplined and veteran soldiery of Spain. He had succeeded in winning a fortress, from which his artillery could play with effect ; and the troops he led were composed, partly of men flushed with recent triumph, and partly of a fresh reserve, now first brought into the field. A comely and a breathless spectacle it was, to behold this Christian squadron emerging from a blazing copse, which they fired on their march ; the red light gleaming on their complete armour, as, in steady and solemn order, they swept on to the swaying and clamorous ranks of the Moorish infantry. Boabdil learned the danger from his scouts ; and, hastily quitting a tower, from which he had, for awhile, repulsed a hostile legion, he threw himself into the midst of the battalions menaced by the skilful Ponce de Leon. Almost at the same moment, the wild and ominous apparition of Almamen, long absent from the eyes of the Moors, appeared in the same quarter, so suddenly and unexpectedly, that none knew whence he had emerged ; the sacred standard in his left hand — his sabre, bared and dripping gore, in his right — his face exposed, and its powerful features working with an ex¬ citement that seemed inspired : his abrupt presence breathed a new soul into the Moors. K 2 13-2 LETLA. “ They come ! they come ! ” he shrieked aloud. “ The God of the East hath delivered the Goth into your hands ! ” From rank to rank — from line to line — sped the santon ; and, as the mystic banner gleamed before the soldiery, each closed his eyes, and muttered an “ amen ” to his adjurations. And now, to the cry of Spain and St. Iago, came trampling dowh the relentless charge of the Christian Avar. At the same instant, from the fortress lately taken by Ponce de Leon, the artillery opened upon the Moors, and did deadly havoc. The Moslems wavered a moment, when before them gleamed the white banner of Almamen ; and they beheld him rushing, alone, and on foot, amidst the foe. Taught to believe the war itself depended on the preservation of the enchanted banner, the Paynims could not see it thus rashly adventured without anxiety and shame : they rallied, advanced firmly, and Boabdil himself, with waving cimiter and fierce exclamations, dashed impetuously, at the head of his guards and Ethiopians, into the affray. The battle became obstinate and bloody. Thrice the white banner disappeared amidst the closing ranks ; and thrice, like a moon from the clouds, it shone forth again — the light and guide of the Pagan power. Tho day ripened ; and the hills already cast lengthening shadows over the blazing groves and tho still Darro, whoso waters, in every creek Avhere the tide was arrested, ran red with blood, when Ferdinand, collecting his Avhole reserve, de¬ scended from the eminence on which hitherto ho had posted himself. With him moved three thousand foot and a thou¬ sand horse, fresh in their vigour, and panting for a share in that glorious day. Tho king himself, who, though constitu¬ tionally fearless, from motives of policy rarely perilled his person, save on imminent occasions, was resolved not to bo outdone by Boabdil ; and armed cap-cl-pied in mail, so Avrought Avith gold that it seemed nearly all of that costly metal, with his snow-white plumage waving above a small diadem that surmounted his lofty helm, he seemed a fit leader to that armament of heroes. Behind him flaunted the great gon- fanon of Spain, and trump and cymbal heralded his approach. The Count de Tendilla rode by his side. “ Sefior,” said Ferdinand, “the infidels fight hard; but they are in tho snaro — wo are about to close the nets upon them. But what cavalcado is this P ” The group that thus droAV tho king’s attention consisted of six squires, bearing, on a martial litter, composed of shields, tho stalwart form of Hernando del Pulgar. LEILA. 133 “ All, tho dogs ! ” cried the king, ns he recognised the pale features of the darling of tho army, — “ havo they murdered the bravest knight that ever fought for Christendom P ” “ Not that, your majesty,” quoth ho of the Exploits, faintly, “ but I am sorely stricken.” “ It must have been more than man who struck thee down,” said tho king. “ It was tho mace of Muza Ben Abil Gazan, an please you, sire,” said one of tho squires ; “ but it came on the good knight unawares, and long after his own arm had seemingly driven away the Pagan.” “ We will avenge thee well,” said the king, setting his teeth: “ lot our own loeches tend thy wounds. Forward, sir knights ! St. Iago and Spain ! ” Tho battle had now gathered to a vortex ; Muza and his cavalry had joined Boabdil and the Moorish foot. On the other hand, Villcna had been reinforced by detachments, that, in almost every other quarter of the field, had routed tho foe. The Moors had been driven back, though inch by inch ; they were now in the broad space before tho very walls of tho city, which were still crowded by the palo and anxious faces of tho aged and tho women: and, at every pause in the artillery, the voices that spoke of home were borne by that lurid air to the cars of the infidels. Tho shout that ran through tho Christian force, as Ferdinand now joined it, struck like a death-knell upon the last hope of Boabdil. But tho blood of his fierce ancestry burned in his veins, and the cheering voice of Almamen, whom nothing daunted, inspired him with a kind of superstitious frenzy. “ King against king — so be it ! Let Allah decide between us! ” cried tho Moorish monarch. “Bind up this wound — ’tis well ! A steed for the santon ! Now, my prophet and my friend, mount by the side of thy king — lot us, at least, fall together. Lelilies ! Lelilies!” Throughout the brave Christian ranks went a thrill of re¬ luctant admiration, as they beheld tho Paynim king, con¬ spicuous by his fair beard and the jewels of his harness, load the scanty guard yet left to him once more into the thickest of their lines. Simultaneously Muza and his Zegris made their fiery charge ; and the Moorish infantry, excited by the example of their leaders, followed with unslackened and dogged zeal. The Christians gave way — they were beaten back : Ferdinand spurred forward ; and, cro either party were well aware of it, both kings met in tho same melie : all order and discipline, 134 LEILA. for the moment, lost, general and monarch mere, as common soldiers, fighting hand to hand. It mas then that Ferdinand, after bearing down before his lance Naim Reduon, second only to Muza in the songs of Granada, beheld opposed to him a strange form, that seemed to that royal Christian rather fiend than man : his raven hair and beard, clotted with blood, hung like snakes about a countenance whose features, naturally formed to give expression to the darkest passions, were dis¬ torted with the madness of despairing rage. Wounded in many places, the blood dabbled his mail ; while, over his head, he waved the banner wrought with mystic characters, which Ferdinand had already been taught to believe the work¬ manship of demons. “ Now, perjured king of the Nazarenes ! ” shouted this formidable champion, “ we meet at last ! — no longer host and guest, monarch and dervise, but man to man ! I am Alma- men ! Die ! ” Ho spoke ; and his sword descended so fiercely on that anointed head, that Ferdinand bent to his saddle-bowr. But the king quickly recovered his seat, and gallantly met tho encounter ; it was one that might have tasked to the utmost the prowess of his bravest knight. Passions which, in their number, their nature, and their excess, animated no other champion on either side, gave to the arm of Almamcn, tho Israelite, a preternatural strength ; his blows fell like rain upon the harness of the king; and the fiery eyes, the gleaming banner of the mysterious sorcerer, wdio had eluded the tortures of his Inquisition, — who had w'alkcd unscathed through the midst of his army, — whose single hand had consumed the encampment of a host, filled the stout heart of tho king with a belief that he encountered no earthly foe. Fortunately, perhaps, for Ferdinand and Spain, the contest did not last long. Tw'enty horsemen spurred into the melee to the rescue of the plumed diadem : Tendilla arrived the first ; with a stroke of his two-handed swrord, tho white banner was cleft from its staff, and fell to the earth. At that sight, tho Moors around broke forth in a wild and despairing cry : that cry spread from rank to rank, from horse to foot ; the Moorish infantry, sorely pressed on all sides, no sooner learned the disaster than they turned to fly : tho rout was as fatal as it was sudden. The Christian reserve, just brought into tho field, poured down upon them with a simultaneous charge. Boabdil, too much engaged to bo the first to learn tho dow n- f all of the sacred insignia, suddenly savr himself almost LEILA. 135 alone, with liis diminished Ethiopians and a handful of his cavaliers. “ Yield thee, Boabdil el Chico ! ” cried Tendilla, from his rear, “ or thon canst not be saved.” “ By the Prophet, never ! ” exclaimed the king : and he dashed his barb against the wall of spears behind him ; and with but a score or so of his guard, cut his way through the ranks that were not unwilling, perhaps, to spare so brave a foe. As ho cleared the Spanish battalions, the unfortunate monarch checked his horse for a moment and gazed along the plain : he beheld his army flying in all directions, save in that single spot where yet glittered the turban of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. As he gazed, he heard the panting nostrils of the chargers behind, and saw the levelled spears of a company despatched to take him, alive or dead, by the command of Ferdinand : ho laid the reins upon his horse’s neck and gal¬ loped into the city — three lances quivered against the portals as he disappeared through the shadows of the arch. But while Muza remained, all was not yet lost : he perceived the flight of the infantry and the king, and with his followers galloped across the plain : he came in time to encounter and slay, to a man, the pursuers of Boabdil ; he then threw himself before the flying Moors : “ Do ye fly in the sight of your wives and daughters ? Would ye not rather they beheld ye die ? ” A thousand voices answered him. “ The banner is in tho hands of the infidel — all is lost ! ” They swept by him, and stopped not till they gained the gates. But still a small and devoted remnant of the Moorish cavaliers remained to shed a last glory over defeat itself. With Muza, their soul and centre, they fought every atom of ground : it was, as the chronicler expresses it, as if they grasped the soil with their arms. Twice they charged into the midst of the foe : the slaughter they made doubled their own number; but, gathering on and closing in, squadron upon squadron, came the whole Christian army — they were encom¬ passed, wearied out, beaten back, as by an ocean. Like wild beasts, driven, at length, to their lair, they retreated with their faces to the foe ; and when Muza came, the last, — his cimiter shivered to the hilt, — ho had scarcely breath to command the gates to be closed and the portcullis lowered, ere he fell from his charger in a sudden and deadly swoon, caused less by his exhaustion than his agony and shame. So ended the last battle fought for the Monarchy of Granada ! CHAPTER II. THE NOVICE. It was in ono of tlio cells of a convent, renowned for tho piety of its inmates, and tlio wliolcsomo austerity of its laws, that a young novice sat alone. The narrow casement was placed so high in tlio cold grey wall as to forbid to the tenant of tho cell the solaeo of sad, or tho distraction of pious, thoughts, which a viow of the world without might afford. Lovely, indeed, was tho landscape that spread bekrw; but it was barred from thoso youthful and melancholy eyes : for Naturo might tempt to a thousand thoughts, not of a tenor calculated to reconcile the heart to an eternal sacrifice of tho sweet human tics. But a faint and partial gleam of sunshine broke through the aperture, and made yet more cheerless tho dreary aspect and gloomy appurtenances of tho cell. And tho young novice seemed to carry on within herself that struggle of emotions, without which there is no victory in the resolves of virtue: sometimes she wept bitterly, but with a low, sub¬ dued sorrow, which spoke rather of despondency than passion ; somet imes she raised her head from her breast, and smiled as she looked upward, or as her eyes rested on the crucifix and tho death’s head that were placed on the rude table by tho pallet on which sho sate. They were emblems of death hero, and life hereafter, which, perhaps, afforded to her tho sources of a two-fold consolation. Sho was yet musing, when a slight tap at tho door was heard, and tho abbess of the convent appeared. “ Daughter,” said she, “ I have brought thee the comfortof a sacred visitor. Tho Queen of Spain, whose pious tender¬ ness is maternally anxious for thy full contentment with thy lot, has sent hither a holy friar, whom sho deems more sooth¬ ing in his counsels than our brother Tomas, w hose ardent zeal often terrifies those1 whom his honest spirit only desires to purify ami guide. 1 will leave him with thee. May the saints bless his ministry ! ” So saying, the abbess retired from the threshold, making way for a form in tho garb of a monk, with the hood drawn over tho face. The monk bowed his head meekly, advanced into the cell, closed tho door, and LEILA. 137 seated himself on a stool, which, save the table and the pallet, seemed the sole furniture of the dismal chamber. “ Daughter,” said he, after a pause, “ it is a rugged and a mournful lot, this renunciation of earth and all its fair destinies and soft affections, to one not wholly prepared and armed for the sacrifice. Confide in me, my child ; I am no dire inquisitor, seeking to distort thy words to thine own peril. I am no bitter and morose ascetic. Beneath these robes still beats a human heart, that can sympathise with human sorrows. Confide in me without fear. Dost thou not dread the fate they would force upon thee ? Dost thou not shrink back ? Wouldst thou not be free ? ” “ No,” said the poor novice ; but the denial came faint and irresolute from her lips. “ Pause,” said the friar, growing more earnest in his tone : “ pause — there is yet time.” “ Nay,” said the novice, looking up with some surprise in her countenance ; “ nay, even were I so weak, escape now is impossible. What hand could unbar the gates of the convent ? ” “ Mine 1 ” cried the monk, with impetuosity. “ Yes, I have that power. In all Spain, but one man can save thee, and I am he.” “ You ! ” faltered the novice, gazing at her strange visitor with mingled astonishment and alarm. “ And who are you that could resist the fiat of that Tomas de Torquemada, before whom, they tell me, even the crowned heads of Castile and Arragon vail low ? ” The monk half rose, with an impatient and almost haughty start, at this interrogatory ; but, reseating himself, replied, in a deep and half- whispered voice : “ Daughter, listen to me ! It is true, that Isabel of Spain (whom the Mother of Mercy bless ! for merciful to all is her secret heart, if not her out¬ ward policy) — it is true that Isabel of Spain, fearful that the path to heaven might be made rougher to thy feet than it well need be, (there was a slight accent of irony in the monk’s voice as he thus spoke,) selected a friar of suasive eloquence and gentle manners to visit thee. He was charged with letters to yon abbess from the queen. Soft though the friar, he was yet a hypocrite. Nay, hear me out ! he loved to worship the rising sun ; and he did not wish always to remain a simple friar, while the Church had higher dignities of this earth to bestow. In the Christian camp, daughter, there was one who burned for tidings of thee, — whom thine image haunted — who, 138 LEILA. stern as thou wert to him, loved thee with a love he knew not of, till thou wrert lost to him. Why dost thou tremble, daughter ? listen, yet ! To that lover, for he was one of high birth, came the monk ; to that lover the monk sold his mission. The monk will have a ready tale, that he was waylaid amidst the mountains by armed men, and robbed of his letters to the abbess. The lover took his garb, and he took the letters ; and he hastened hither. Leila ! beloved Leila ! behold him at thy feet ! ” The monk raised his cowl; and, dropping on his knee beside her, presented to her gaze the features of the Prince of Spain. “ You ! ” said Leila, averting her countenance, and vainly endeavouring to extricate the hand which he had seized. “ This is indeed cruel. You, the author of so many sufferings — such calumny — such reproach ! ” “I will repair all,” said Don Juan, fervently. “I alone, I repeat it, have the power to set you free. You are no longer a Jewess ; you are one of our faith ; there is now no bar upon our loves. Imperious though my father, — all dark and dread as is this new power Avhich he is rashly erecting in his dominions, the heir of two monarchies is not so poor in influence and in friends, as to be unable to offer the woman of his love an inviolable shelter, alike from priest and despot. Ply with me ! — quit this dreary sepulchre, ere the last stone close over thee for ever ! I have horses, I have guards at hand. This night it can be arranged. This night — oh, bliss ! — thou mayest be rendered up to earth and love ! ” “Prince,” said Leila, who had drawn herself from Juan’s grasp during this address, and who now stood at a little distance, erect and proud, “ you tempt me in vain ; or, rather, yon offer me no temptation. I have made my choice ; I abide •by it.” “ Oh ! bethink thee,” said the pi’ince, in a voice of real and imploring anguish ; “ bethink thee well of the consequences of thy refusal. Thou canst not see them yet ; thine ardour blinds thee. But, wrhen hour after hour, day after day, year after year, steals on in the appalling monotony of this sanc¬ tified prison ; when thou shalt see thy youth withering with¬ out love — thine age without honour ; when thy heart shall grow as stone within thee, beneath the looks of yon icy spectres ; when nothing shall vary the aching dulness of wasted life, save a longer fast, or a severer penance : then, then will thy grief be rendered tenfold, by the despairing and LEILA. 139 remorseful thought, that thine own lips sealed thine own sentence, Thou mayest think,” continued Juan, with rapid eagerness, “ that my love to thee was, at first, light and dis¬ honouring. Be it so. I own that my youth has passed in idle wooings, and the mockeries of affection. But, for the first time in my life, I feel that I love. Thy dark eyes — ’thy noble beauty — even thy womanly scorn, have fascinated me. I — never yet disdained where I have been a suitor — acknow¬ ledge, at last, that there is a triumph in the conquest of a woman’s heart. Oh, Leila ! do not — do not reject me. Ton know not how rare and how deep a love you cast away.” The novice was touched : the present language of Don J uan was so different from what it had been before ; the earnest love that breathed in his voice — that looked from his eyes, struck a chord in her breast ; it reminded her of her own unconquered, unconquerable love for the lost Muza. She was touched, then — touched to tears ; but her resolves were not shaken. “Oh, Leila!” resumed the prince, fondly, mistaking the nature of her emotion, and seeking to pursue the advantage he imagined he had gained, “ look at yonder sunbeam, strug¬ gling through the loophole of thy cell. Is it not a messenger from the happy world ? does it not plead for me ? does it not whisper to thee of the green fields, and the laughing vine¬ yards, and all the beautiful prodigality of that earth thou art about to renounce for ever ? Dost thou dread my love ? Are the forms around thee, ascetic and lifeless, fairer to thine eyes than mine ? Dost thou doubt my power to protect thee ? I tell thee that the proudest nobles of Spain would flock around my banner, were it necessary to guard thee by force of arms. Yet, speak the word — be mine — and I will fly hence with thee, to climes where the Church has not cast out its deadly roots, and, forgetful of crowns and cares, live alone for thee. Ah, speak ! ” “ My lord,” said Leila, calmly, and rousing herself to the necessary effort, “ I am deeply and sincerely grateful for the interest you express— for the affection you avow. But you deceive yourself. I have pondered well over the alternative I have taken. I do not regret nor repent — much less would I retract it. The earth that you speak of, full of affections and of bliss to others, has no ties, no allurements for me. I desire only peace, repose, and an early death.” “ Can it be possible,” said the prince, growing pale, “ that 140 LEILA. thou lovest another ? Then, indeed, and then only, would my wooing he in Tain.” The cheek of the novice grew deeply flashed, hat the colonr soon subsided : she murmured to herself, * ‘ Why should I blush to own it now ? ” and then spoke aloud : “ Prince, I trust I have done with the world ; and bitter the pang I feel when yon call me back to it. But yon merit my candour : I have loved another ; and in that thought, as in an urn, lie the ashes of all affection. That other is of a different faith. We may never — never meet again below, but it is a solace to pray that we may meet above. That solace, and these cloisters, are dearer to me than all the pomp, all the pleasures, of the world.” The prince sunk down, and, covering his face with his hands, groaned aloud — but made no reply. “ Go, then, Prince of Spain,” continued the novice; “son of the noble Isabel, Leila is not unworthy of her cares. Go, and pursue the great destinies that await you. And if you forgive — if you still cherish a thought of — the poor Jewish maiden, soften, alleviate, mitigate, the wretched and desperate doom that awaits the fallen race she has abandoned for thy creed.” “Alas, alas!” said the prince, mournfully, “thee alone, perchance, of all thy race, I could have saved from the bigotry that is fast covering this knightly land, like the rising of an irresistible sea — and thou rejectest me! Take time, at least, to pause — to consider. Let me see thee again to-morrow.” “No, prince, no — not again ! I will keep thy secret only if I see thee no more. If thou persist in a suit that I feel to be that of sin and shame, then, indeed, mine honour - ” “Hold!” interrupted Juan, with haughty impatience, — “I torment, I harass you no more. I release you from my importunity. Perhaps, already I have stooped too low.” He drew the cowl over his features, and strode sullenly to the door ; but, turning for one last gaze on the form that had so strangely fascinated a heart capable of generous emotions, — the meek and despondent posture of the novice, her tender youth, her gloomy fate, melted his momentary pride and resentment. “ God bless and reconcile thee, poor child ! ” he said, in a voice choked with contending passions — and the door closed upon his form. “ I thank thee, Heaven, that it was not Muza! ” muttered Leila, breaking from a reverie, in which she seemed to be LEILA. 141 communing with her own soul ; “ I feel that I could not have resisted him.” With that thought she knelt down, in humble and penitent self-reproach, and prayed for strength. Ere she had risen from her supplications, her solitude was again invaded by Torquemada, the Dominican. This strange man, though the author of cruelties at which nature recoils, had some veins of warm and gentle feeling, streaking, as it were, the marble of his hard character ; and when he had thoroughly convinced himself of the pure and earnest zeal of the young convert, he relaxed from the grim sternness he had at first exhibited towards her. He loved to exert the eloquence he possessed, in raising her spirit, in reconciling her doubts. He prayed for her, and he prayed beside her, with passion and with tears. He stayed long with the novice ; and, when he left her, she was, if not happy, at least contented. Her warmest wish now, was to abridge the period of her noviciate, which, at her desire, the Church had already rendered merely a nominal probation. She longed to put irresolution out of her power, and to enter at once upon the narrow road through the strait gate. The gentle and modest piety of the young novice touched the sisterhood : she was endeared to all of them. Her con¬ version was an event that broke the lethargy of their stagnant life. She became an object of general interest, of avowed pride, of kindly compassion ; and their kindness to her, who from her cradle had seen little of her own sex, had a great effect towards calming and soothing her mind. But, at night, her dreams brought before her the dark and menacing countenance of her father. Sometimes he seemed to pluck her from the gates of heaven, and to sink with her into the yawning abyss below. Sometimes she saw him with her beside the altar, but imploring her to forswear the Saviour, before whose crucifix she knelt. Occasionally her visions were haunted, also, with Muza — but in less terrible guise. She saw his calm and melancholy eyes fixed upon her ; and his voice asked, “ Canst thou take a vow that makes it sinful to remember me ? ” The night, that usually brings balm and oblivion to the sad, was thus made more dreadful to Leila than the day. Her health grew feebler and feebler, but her mind still was firm. In happier time and circumstance that poor novice would have been a great character ; but she was one of the countless victims the world knows not of, whose virtues 142 LEILA. are in silent motives, whoso struggles are in the solitary heart. Of tho prince she heard and saw no more. There were times when she fancied, from oblique and obscure hints, that the Dominican had been aware of Don Juan’s disguise and visit. But, if so, that knowledge appeared only to inereaso tho gentleness, almost the respect, which Torquemada mani¬ fested towards her. Certainly, since that day, from some causo or other, tho priest’s manner had been softened when ho addressed her ; and he who seldom had recourse to other arts than those of censure and of menace, often uttered senti¬ ments half of pity and half of praise. Thus consoled and supported in the day, — thus haunted and terrified by night, but still not repenting her resolve, Leila saw the time glide on to that eventful day when her lips were to pronounce that irrevocable vow which is the epitaph of life. While in this obscure and remote convent progressed the history of an individual, wo are summoned back to witness tho crowning fate of an expiring dynasty. CHAPTER III. TIIE TAUSE BETWEEN DEFEAT AND SURRENDER. The unfortunate Boabdil plunged once more amidst tho recesses of tho Alhambra. Whatever his anguish, or his despondency, none were permitted to sharo, or even to witness, his emotions. But ho especially resisted tho ad¬ mission to his solitude, demanded by his mother, implored by his faithful Amine, and sorrowfully urged by Muza: those most loved, or most respected, were, above all, the persons from whom he most shrunk. Almamen was heard of no moro. It was believed that he had perished in the battle. But ho was ono of those who, precisely as they aro effective when present, uro forgotten in absence. And, in tho meanwhile, as tho Vega was utterly desolated, and all supplies were cut off, famine daily made more terrifically sovere, diverted tho attention of each humbler Moor from the fall of tho city to his individual sufferings. New persecutions fell upon tho miserable Jews. Not having taken an}' share in tho conflict, (us was to be expected from men who had no stake in the country which they dwelt in, and whoso brethren had been taught so severe a lesson LEILA. 143 upon the folly of interference,) no sentiment of fellowship in danger mitigated the hatred and loathing with which they •were held ; and as, in their lust of gain, many of them con¬ tinued, amidst tho agony and starvation of tho citizens, to sell food at enormous prices, tho excitement of the multitude against them — released, by tho state of tho city, from all restraint and law — made itself felt by tho most barbarous excesses. Many of tho houses of the Israelites were attacked by tho mob, plundered, razed to the ground, and tho owners tortured to death, to extort confession of imaginary wealth. Not to sell what was demanded was a crime ; to sell it was a crime also. These miserable outcasts fled to whatever secret places the vaults of their houses or tho caverns in tho hills within tho city could yet afford them, cursing their fate, and almost longing even for tho yoko of tho Christian bigots. Thus passed several days ; tho defence of tho city abandoned to its naked walls and mighty gates. Tho glaring sun looked down upon closed shops and depopulated streets, save when some ghostly and skeleton band of tho famished poor collected, in a sudden paroxysm of revenge or despair, around tho stormed and fired mansion of a dotestod Israelite. At length, Boabdil aroused himself from his seclusion ; and Muza to his own surprise, was summoned to tho presence of the king. He found Boabdil in one of tho most gorgeous halls of his gorgeous palace. Within the Tower of Comarcs is a vast chamber, still called tho Hall of tho Ambassadors. Here it was that Boabdil now held his court. On the glowing walls hung trophies and banners, and here and there an Arabian portrait of some bearded king. By the windows, which overlooked tho most lovely banks of the Darro, gathered the santons and alfaquis, a little apart from the main crowd. Beyond, through half- veiling draperies, might bo seen the great court of the Alberca, whose peristyles were hung with flowers; while, in tho centre, the gigantic basin, which gives its name to tho court, caught the sunlight obliquely, and its waves glittered on the eye from amidst the roses that then clustered over it. In the audience hall itself, a canopy, over tho royal cushions on which Boabdil reclined, was blazoned with the heraldic insignia of Granada’s monarchs. His guards, and his mutes, and his eunuchs, and his courtiers, and his counsellors, and his captains, wero ranged in long files on either side tho canopy. It seemed the last flicker of tho lamp of tho Moorish empire, that hollow and unreal pomp ! As Muza approached 144 LEILA. the monarch, lie was startled by the change of his counte¬ nance : the young and beautiful Boabdil seemed to have grown suddenly old ; his eyes were sunken, his countenance sown with wrinkles, and his voice sounded broken and hollow on the ears of his kinsman. “Come hither, Muza,” said he; “seat thyself beside me, and listen as thou best canst to the tidings we are about to hear.” As Muza placed himself on a cushion, a little below the king, Boabdil motioned to one amongst tho crowd. “ Hamet,” said he, “thou hast examined tho state of tho Christian camp; what news dost thou bring? ” “Light of the Faithful,” answered tho Moor, “it is a camp no longer — it has already become a city. Nine towns of Spain were charged with the task ; stone has taken tho place of canvas ; towers and streets arise like tho buildings of a genius ; and the misbelieving king hath sworn that this new city shall not bo left until Granada sees his standard on its walls.” “ Go on,” said Boabdil, calmly. “ Traders and men of merchandise flock thither daily ; tho spot is one bazaar ; all that should supply our famishing country pours its plenty into their mart.” Boabdil motioned to tho Moor to withdraw, and an alfaqui advanced in his stead. “ Successor of the Prophet, and darling of the world ! ” said the reverend man, “ the alfaquis and seers of Granada implore thee on their knees to listen to their voice. They have con¬ sulted the Books of Fate ; they have implored a sign from tho Prophet ; and they find that the glory has left thy people and thy crown. Tho fall of Granada is predestined — God is great ! ” “ Yon shall have my answer forthwith,” said Boabdil. “ Abdelemic, approach.” From the crowd came an aged and whito bearded man, tho governor of tho city. “ Speak, old man,” said the king. “Oh, Boabdil!” said tho veteran, with faltering tones, while tho tears rolled down his cheeks ; “ son of a raco of kings and heroes ! would that thy servant had fallen dead on thy threshold this day, and that tho lips of a Moorish noblo had never been polluted by tho words that I now utter. Our state is hopeless : our granaries are as the sands of the desert ; there is in them life neither for beast nor man. Tho war- LEILA. 145 horse that boro the hero is now consumed for his food ; and the population of the city, witli one voice, cry for chains and • — bread! I have spoken.” “ Admit the Ambassador of Egypt,” said Boabdil, as Abde- lemic retired. There was a pause : one of the draperies at the end of the hall was drawn aside ; and with the slow and sedate majesty of their tribe and land, paced forth a dark and swarthy train, tho envoys of tho Egyptian soldan. Six of the band bore costly presents of gems and weapons, and the pro¬ cession closed with four veiled slaves, whose beauty had been tho boast of the ancient valley of the Nile. “ Sun of Granada and day-star of the faithful ! ” said the chief of the Egyptians, “ my lord, the Soldan of Egypt, de¬ light of the world, and rose-tree of the East, thus answers to the letters of Boabdil. He grieves that ho cannot send the succour thou dcmandest ; and informing himself of the con¬ dition of thy territories, ho finds that Granada no longer holds a seaport, by which his forces (could he send them) might find an entrance into Spain. He implores thee to put thy trust in Allah, who will not desert his chosen ones, and lays these gifts, in pledge of amity and love, at the feet of my lord the king.” “ It is a gracious and well-timed offering,” said Boabdil, with a writhing lip ; “ we thank him.” There was now a long and dead silence, as the ambassadors swept from the hall of audience : when Boabdil suddenly raised his head from his breast, and looked round his hall with a kingly and majestic look : “ Let the heralds of Ferdinand of Spain approach.” A groan involuntarily broke from the breast of Muza : it was echoed by a murmur of abhorrence and despair from the gallant captains who stood around ; but to that momentary burst succeeded a breathless silence, as from another drapery, opposite the royal couch, gleamed tho burnished mail of tho knights of Spain. Foremost of those haughty visitors, whose iron heels clanked loudly on the tesselated floor, came a noble and stately form, in full armour, save tho helmet, and with a mantle of azure velvet, wrought with the silver cross that made the badge of tho Christian war. Upon his manly countenance was visible no sign of undue arrogance or ex¬ ultation ; but something of that generous pity which brave men feel for conquered foes dimmed the lustre of his com¬ manding eye, and softened the wonted sternness of his martial bearing. He and his train approached tlxe king with a pro¬ found salutation of respect ; and falling back, motioned to the L 146 LEILA. lierald that accompanied him, and whose garb, breast and back, was wrought with the arms of Spain, to deliver himself of his mission. “ To Boabdil ! ” said the herald, with a loud voice, that filled the whole expanse, and thrilled with varions emotions the dumb assembly. “ To Boabdil el Chico, king of Granada, Ferdinand of Arragon and Isabel of Castile send royal greet¬ ing. They command me to express their hope that the war is at length concluded ; and they offer to the King of Granada such terms of capitulation as a king, without dishonour, may receive. In the stead of this city, which their Most Christian Majesties will restore to their own dominion, as is just, they offer, O king, princely territories in the Alpuxarras mountains to your sway, holding them by oath of fealty to the Spanish crown. To the people of Granada, their Most Christian Majesties promise full protection of property, life, and faith, under a government by their own magistrates, and according to their own laws ; exemption from tribute for three years ; and taxes thereafter, regulated by the custom and ratio of their present imposts. To such Moors as, discontented with these provisions, would abandon Granada, are promised free passage for themselves and their wealth. In return for these marks of their royal bounty, their most Christian Majesties summon Granada to surrender (if no succour meanwhile arrive) within seventy days. And these offers are now solemnly recorded in the presence, and through the mission, of the noble and renowned knight, Gonzalvo of Cordova, de¬ puted by their Most Christian Majesties from their new city of Santa Fe.” When the herald had concluded, Boabdil cast his eye over his thronged and splendid court. No glance of fire met his own ; amidst the silent crowd, a resigned content was alono to be pei’ceived ; the proposals exceeded the hope of the be¬ sieged. “And,” asked Boabdil, with a deep-drawn sigh, “if wo reject these offers ? ” “Noble prince,” said Gonzalvo, earnestly, “ask us not to wound thine ears with the alternative. Pause, and consider of our offers ; and, if thou doubtest, O brave king ! mount the towers of thine Alhambra, survey our legions marshalled beneath thy walls, and turn thine eyes upon a brave people, defeated, not by human valour, but by famine, and the in¬ scrutable will of God.” “ Your monarchs shall have our answer, gentle Christian, LEILA. 147 perchance oro nightfall. And yon, Sir Kniglit, who hast de¬ livered a messago hitter for kings to hear, receive, at least, our thanks for such bearing as might best mitigate the im¬ port. Our vizier will bear to your apartment those tokens of remembrance that aro yet left to tho monarch of Granada to bestow.” “ Muza,” resumed tho king, as tho Spaniards left tho pre¬ sence — “ thou hast heard all. What is tho last counsel thou canst givo thy sovereign P ” Tho fierce Moor had with difficulty waited this licence to utter such sentiments as death only could banish from that unconquerablo heart. Ho rose, dcscondcd from tho couch, and, standing a little below tho king, and facing the motley throng of all of wise or bravo yet left to Granada, thus spoko : — • “ Why should wo surrender ? two hundred thousand in¬ habitants aro yet within our walls ; of tlicso, twenty thousand, at least, aro Moors, who liavo hands and swords. Why should wo surrender ? Famine presses us, it is true ; but hunger, that makes the lion more terrible, shall it make the man more base ? Do ye despair ? so bo it ! despair, in tho valiant, ought to liavo an irresistible force. Despair has made cowards bravo : shall it sink tho bravo to cowards ? Let us arouse tho people ; hitherto, wo have deponded too much upon tho nobles. Let us collect our wholo forco, and march upon this new city, while tho soldiers of Spain are employed in their new profession of architects and builders. Hear me, O God and prophet of tho M'oslem ! hoar one who never was for¬ sworn ! If, Moors of Granada, yo adopt my counsel, I cannot promiso yo victory, but I promise ye never to live without it : .! promiso ye, at least, your independence — for tho dead know no chains ! If wo cannot live, let us so die that wo may leave, to remotest ages, a glory that shall be inoro durable than kingdoms. King of Granada! this is tho counsel of Muza Den Abil Gazan.” The prince ceased. But ho, whoso faintest word had onco breathed tiro into the dullest, had now poured out his spirit upon frigid and lifeless matter. No man answered — no man moved. Doabdil alone, clinging to tho shadow of hope, turned at last towards the audience. “ Warriors and sages ! ” ho said, “ as Muza’s counsel is your king’s desire, say but tho word, and, ere tho hour-glass shed its last sand, tho blast of our trumpet shall bo wringing through tho Vivarrambla.” l 2 148 LEILA. “ 0 king ! fight not against the will of fate — God is great! ” replied the chief of the alfaquis. “ Alas ! ” said Abdelmelic, “ if the voice of Muza and your own fall thus coldly upon us, how can ye stir the breadless and heartless multitude ? ” “ Is such your general thought and your general will? ” said Boabdil. An universal murmur answered, “ Yes ! ” “ Go then, Abdelmelic,” resumed the ill-starred king, “ go with yon Spaniards to the Christian camp, and bring us back the best terms you can obtain. The crown has passed from the head of El Zogoybi ; Fate sets her seal upon my brow. Unfortunate was the commencement of my reign — unfort onate its end. Break up the divan.” The words of Boabdil moved and penetrated an audience, never till then so alive to his gentle qualities, his learned wisdom, and his natural valour. Many flung themselves at his feet, with tears and sighs ; and the crowd gathered round to touch the hem of his robe. Muza gazed at them in deep disdain, with folded arms and heaving breast. “ Women, not men ! ” he exclaimed, “ ye weep, as if ye had not blood still left to shed ! Ye are reconciled to the loss of liberty, because ye are told ye shall lose nothing else. Fools and dupes ! I see, from the spot where my spirit stands above ye, the dark and dismal future to which ye are crawling on your knees : bondage and rapine — the violence of lawless Inst — the persecution of hostile faith — your gold wrung from ye by torture — your national name rooted from the soil. Bear this, and remember me ! Farewell, Boabdil ! you I pity not ; for your gardens have yet a poison, and your armories a sword. Farewell, nobles and santons of Granada ! I quit my country while it is yet free.” Scarcely had he ceased, ere he had disappeared from the hall. It was as the parting genius of Granada ! CHAPTER IV. THE ADVENTURE OF THE SOLITARY nORSEMAN. It was a burning and sultry noon, when, through a small ■valley, skirted by rugged and precipitous hills, at the distance of several leagues from Granada, a horseman, in complete LEILA. 149 armour, wound his solitary way. His mail was black and unadorned ; on his vizor waved no plume. But there was something in his carriage and mien, and the singular beauty of his coal-black steed, which appeared to indicate a higher rank than the absence of page and squire, and the plainness of his accoutrements, would have denoted to a careless eye. He rode very slowly ; and his steed, with the licence of a spoiled favourite, often halted lazily in his sultry path, as a tuft of herbage, or the bough of some over-hanging tree, offered its temptation. At length, as he thus paused, a noise was heard in a copse that clothed the descent of a steep mountain ; and the horse started suddenly back, forcing the traveller from his reverie. He looked mechanically upward, and beheld the figure of a man bounding through the trees, with rapid and irregular steps. It was a form that suited well the silence and solitude of the spot ; and might have passed for one of those stern recluses — half hermit, half soldier — who, in the earlier crusades, fixed their wild homes amidst the sands and caves of Palestine. The stranger sup¬ ported his steps by a long staff. His hair and beard hung long and matted over his broad shoulders. A rusted mail, once splendid with arabesque enrichments, protected his breast ; but the loose gown — a sort of tartan, which descended below the cuirass — was rent and tattered, and his feet bare ; in his girdle was a short curved cimiter, a knife or dagger, and a parchment roll, clasped and bound with iron. As the horseman gazed at this abrupt intruder on the soli- tudo, his frame quivered with emotion : and, raising himself to his full height, he called aloud, “ Fiend or santon — what¬ soever thou art — what seekest thou in these lonely places, far from the king thy counsels deluded, and the city betrayed by thy falso prophecies and unhallowed charms ? ” “Ha!” cried Almamen, for it was indeed the Israelite; “ by thy black charger, and the tone of thy haughty voice, I know the hero of Granada. Rather, Muza Ben Abil Gazan, why art thou absent from the last hold of the Moorish empire ? ” “ Dost thou pretend to read the future, and art thou blind to the present P Granada has capitulated to the Spaniard. Alone I have left a land of slaves, and shall seek, in our ancestral Africa, some spot where the footstep of the misbe¬ liever hath not trodden.” “ The fate of one bigotry is, then, sealed,” said Almamen, gloomily ; “ but that which succeeds it is yet more dark.” 150 LEILA. “ Dog ! ” cried Muza, couching his lance, “ what art thou, that thus blasphemest ? ” “ A Jew ! ” replied Almamen, in a voice of thunder, and drawing his cimiter : “a despised and despising Jew! Ask you more P I am the son of a race of kings. I was the worst enemy of the Moors, till I found the Nazarene more hateful than the Moslem ; and then even Muza himself was not their more renowned champion. Come on, if thou wilt — man to man : I defy thee ! ” “ No, no,” muttered Muza, sinking his lance ; “ thy mail is rusted with the blood of the Spaniard, and this arm cannot smite the slayer of the Christian. Part we in peace.” “ Hold, prince ! ” said Almamen, in an altered voice : “ is thy country the sole thing dear to thee ? Has the smile of woman never stolen beneath thine armour ? Has thy heart never beat for softer meetings than the encounter of a foe ? ” “ Am I human, and a Moor ? ” returned Musa. “ For once you divine aright ; and, could thy spells bestow on these eyes but one more sight of the last treasure left to me on earth, I should be as credulous of thy sorcery as Boabdil.” “ Thou lovest her still, then — this Leila? ” “ Dark necromancer, hast thou read my secret ? and knowest thou the name of my beloved one ? Ah ! let me believe thee indeed wise, and reveal to me the spot of earth which holds the delight of my soul ! Tes,” continued the Moor, with increased emotion, and throwing up his vizor, as if for air — “ yes ; Allah forgive me ! but, when all was lost at Granada, I had still one consolation in leaving my fated birth¬ place : I had licence to search for Leila ; I had the hope to secure to my wanderings in distant lands one to whose glance the eyes of the houris would be dim. But I waste words. Tell me where is Leila, and conduct me to her feet! ” “ Moslem, I will lead thee to her,” answered Almamen, gazing on the prince with an expression of strange and fearful exultation in his dark eyes : “ I will lead thee to her — follow me. It is only yesternight that I learned the walls that con- iined her; and from that hour to this have I journeyed over mountain and desert, without rest or food.” “ Yet what is she to thee ? ” asked Muza, suspiciously. “ Thou slialt learn full soon. Let us on.” So saying, Almamen sprang forward with a vigour which the excitement of his mind supplied to the exhaustion of his body. Muza wonderingly pushed on his charger, and endeavoured to draw his mysterious guide into conversation : LEILA. 151 but Almamen scarcely heeded him. And when he broke from his gloomy silence, it was but in incoherent and brief exclamations, often in a tongue foreign to the ear of his com¬ panion. The hardy Moor, though steeled against the super¬ stitions of his race, less by the philosophy of the learned than the contempt of the brave, felt an awe gather over him as he glanced, from the giant rocks and lonely valleys, to the un¬ earthly aspect and glittering eyes of the reputed sorcerer ; and more than once he muttered such verses of the Koran as were esteemed by his countrymen the counterspell to the ma¬ chinations of the evil genii. It might bo an hour that they had thus journeyed together, when Almamen paused abruptly : “ I am wearied,” said he, faintly ; “ and, though time presses, I fear that my strength will fail me.” “ Mount, then, behind me,” returned the Moor, after some natural hesitation : “ Jew though thou art, I will brave the contamination for the sake of Leila.” “ Moor ! ” cried the Hebrew, fiercely, “ the contamination would be mine. Things of the yesterday, as thy prophet and thy creed are, thou canst not sound the unfathomable loath¬ ing which each heart, faithful to the Ancient of days, feels for such as thou and thine.” “ Now, by the Kaaba ! ” said Muza, and his brow became dark, “ another such word, and the hoofs of my steed shall trample the breath of blasphemy from thy body.” “ I would defy thee to the death,” answered Almamen, dis¬ dainfully ; “ but I reserve the bravest of the Moors to witness a deed worthy of the descendant of Jephtha. But, hist ! I hear hoofs.” Muza listened ; and his sharp ear caught a distinct ring upon the hard and rocky soil. He turned round, and saw Almamen gliding away through the thick underwood, until the branches concealed his form. Presently, a curve in the path brought in view a Spanish cavalier, mounted on an An¬ dalusian jennet : the horseman was gaily singing one of the popular ballads of the time ; and, as it related to the feats of the Spaniards against the Moors, Muza’s haughty blood was already stirred, and his moustache quivered on his lip. “ I will change the air,” muttered the Moslem, grasping his lance ; when, as the thought crossed him, he beheld the Spaniard suddenly reel in his saddle, and fall prostrate on the ground. In the same instant, Almamen had darted from his hiding-place, seized the steed of the cavalier, mounted, 152 LEILA. and, ere Muza recovered from his surprise, was by the side of the Moor. “ By what charm,” said Muza, curbing his barb, “ didst thou fell the Spaniard — seemingly without a blow ? ” “ As David felled Goliah — by the pebble and the sling,” answered Alinamen carelessly. “Now, then, spur forward, if thou art eager to see thy Leila.” The horsemen dashed over the body of the stunned and insensible Spaniard. Tree and mountain glided by ; gradually the valley vanished, and a thick forest loomed upon their path. Still they made on, though the interlaced bonghs, and the ruggedness of the footing, somewhat obstructed their way ; until, as the sun began slowly to decline, they entered a broad and circular space, round which trees of the eldest growth spread their motionless and shadowy boughs. In the midmost sward wras a rude and antique stone, resembling the altar of some barbarous and departed creed. Here Almamen abruptly halted, and muttered inaudibly to himself. “ AVhat moves thee, dark stranger ? ” said the Moor ; “ and why dost thou mutter, and gaze on space ? ” Almamen answered not, but dismounted, hung his bridle to a branch of a scathed and riven elm, and advanced alone into the middle of the space. “ Dread and prophetic power that art within mo ! ” said the Hebrew, aloud, — “ this, then, is the spot, that, by dream and vision, thou hast foretold mo wherein to consummate and record the vow that shall sever from the spirit the last weakness 'of the flesh. Night after night hast thou brought before mine eyes, in darkness and in slumber, the solemn solitude that I now survey. Be it so : I am prepared ! ” Thus speaking, he retired for a few moments into the wood; collected in his arms the dry leaves and withered branches which cumbered the desolate clay ; and placed the fuel upon the altar. Then, turning to the East, and raising his hands on high, he exclaimed, “ Lo ! upon this altar, once worshipped, perchance, by the heathen savage, the last bold spirit of thy fallen and scattered race dedicates, 0 Ineffable Ono ! that precious offering thou didst demand from a siro of old. Accept the sacrifice ! ” As the Hebrew ended his adjuration he drew a phial from his bosom, and sprinkled a few drops upon the arid fuel. A pale blue flame suddenly leaped up ; and. as it lighted the haggard but earnest countenance of the Israelite, Muza felt his Moorish blood congeal in his veins, and shuddered, though LEILA. 153 he scarce knew why. Almamen, with his dagger, severed from his head one of his long locks, and cast it upon the flame. He watched it until it was consumed ; and then, with a stifled cry, fell upon the earth in a dead swoon. The Moor hastened to raise him ; he chafed his hands and temples ; he unbuckled the vest upon his bosom ; he forgot that his comrade was a sorcerer and a Jew, so much had the agony of that excitement moved his sympathy. It was not till several minutes had elapsed, that Almamen, with a deep-drawn sigh, recovered from his swoon. “ Ah, beloved one ! bride of my heart ! ” he murmured, “ was it for this that thou didst commend to me the only pledge of our youthful love ? Forgive me ! I restore her to the earth, un¬ tainted by the Gentile.” He closed his eyes again, and a strong convulsion shook his frame. It passed ; and he rose as a man fi’om a fearful dream, composed, and almost, as it were, refreshed, by the terrors he had undergone. The last glimmer of the ghastly light was dying away upon that ancient altar, and a low wind crept sighing through the trees. “ Mount, prince,” said Almamen, calmly, but averting his eyes from the altar ; “ we shall have no more delays.” “Wilt thou not explain thy incantation ?” asked Muza ; “ or is it, as my reason tells me, but the mummery of a juggler? ” “Alas! alas ! ” answered Almamen, in a sad and altered tone, “ thou wilt soon know all.” CHAPTER V. THE SACRIFICE. The sun was now sinking slowly through those masses of purple cloud which belong to Iberian skies ; when, emerging from the forest, the travellers saw before them a small and lovely plain, cultivated like a garden. Rows of orange and citron trees were backed by the dark green foliage of vines ; and, these, again, found a barrier in girdling copses of chestnut, oak, and the deeper verdure of pines : while, far to the horizon, rose the distant and dim outline of the mountain range, scarcely distinguishable from the mellow coverings of the heaven. Through this charming spot went a slender and sparkling torrent, that collected its waters in a circular basin, over which the rose and orange hung then' contrasted blossoms. 154 LEILA. On a gentle eminence, above this plain, or garden, rose the spires of a convent : and, thongh it was still clear daylight, the long and pointed lattices were illumined within; and, as the horsemen cast their eyes upon the pile, the sound of the holy chorus — made more sweet and solemn from its own in¬ distinctness, from the quiet of the hour, from the sudden and sequestered loveliness of that spot, suiting so well the ideal calm of the conventual life — rolled its music through the odorous and lucent air. But that scene and that sound, so calculated to soothe and harmonise the thought, seemed to arouse Almamen into agony and passion. He smote his breast with his clenched hand ; and, shrieking, rather than exclaiming, “ God of my fathers ! have I come too late F ” buried his spurs to the rowels in the sides of his panting steed. Along the sward, through the fragrant shrubs, athwart the pebbly and shallow torrent, up the ascent to the convent, sped the Israelite. Muza, wonder¬ ing and half reluctant, followed at a little distance. Clearer and nearer came the voices of the choir ; broader and redder glowed the tapers from the Gothic casements : the porch of the convent chapel was reached ; the Hebrew sprang from his horse. A small group of the peasants dependent on the convent loitered reverently round the threshold : pushing through them, as one frantic, Almamen entered the chapel and disappeared. A minute elapsed. Muza was at the door ; but the Moor paused irresolutely, ere he dismounted. “ What is the cere¬ mony P ” he asked of the peasants. “ A nun is about to take the vows,” answered one of them. A cry of alarm, of indignation, of terror, was heard within. Muza no longer delayed : he gave his steed to the by-stander, pushed aside the heavy curtain that screened the threshold, and was within the chapel. By the altar gathered a confused and disordered group — the sisterhood, with their abbess. Round the consecrated rail flocked the spectators, breathless and amazed. Conspicuous above the rest, on the elevation of the holy place, stood Almamen, with his drawn dagger in his right hand, his loft arm clasped around the form of a novice, whose dress, not yet replaced by the serge, bespoke her the sister fated to the veil ; and, on the opposite side of that sister, one hand on her shoulder, the other rearing on high the sacred crucifix, stood a stern, calm, commanding form, in the white robes of the Dominican order : it was Tomas de Torquemada. LEILA. 155 “ Avaunt, Abaddon ! ” were the first words wbicb reached Muza’s ear, as ho stood, unnoticed, in the middle of the aisle : “ here thy sorcery and thine arts cannot avail thee. Release tho devoted one of God ! ” “ She is mine ! she is my daughter ! I claim her from thee as a father, in the name of the great Sire of Man ! ” “ Seize the sorcerer ! seize him ! ” exclaimed tho Inquisitor, as, with a sudden movement, Almamen cleared his way through the scattered and dismayed group, and stood with his daughter in his arms, on the first step of the consecrated platform. Rut not a foot stirred — not a hand was raised. The epithet bestowed on the intruder had only breathed a supernatural terror into the audience ; and they would have sooner rushed upon a tiger in his lair, than on the lifted dagger and savage aspect of that grim stranger. “ Oh, my father! ” then said a low and faltering voice, that startled Muza as a voice from the grave — “ wrestle not against tho decrees of heaven. Thy daughter is not compelled to her solemn choice. Humbly, but devotedly, a convert to tho Christian creed, her only wish on earth is to take the consecrated and eternal vow.” “ 11a ! ” groaned the Hebrew, suddenly relaxing his hold, as his daughter fell on her knees before him, “ then have I in¬ deed been told, as I have foreseen, the worst. Tho veil is rent — the spirit hath left the temple. Thy beauty is desecrated ; thy form is but unhallowed clay. Dog ! ” he cried, more fiercely, glaring round upon the unmoved face of the Inqui¬ sitor, “ this is thy work : but thou shalt not triumph. Here, by thine own shrine, I spit at and defy thee, as once before, amidst tho tortures of thy inhuman court. Thus — thus — thus — Almamen the Jew delivers the last of his house from the curse of Galilee ! ” “ Hold, murderer ! ” cried a voice of thunder ; and an armed man burst through the crowd and stood upon the platform. It was too late : thrice the blado of the Hebrew had passed through that innocent breast ; thrice was it red¬ dened with that virgin blood. Leila fell in the arms of her lover ; her dim eyes rested upon his countenance, as it shone upon her, beneath his lifted visor — a faint and tender smile played upon her lips — Leila was no more. One hasty glance Almamen cast upon his victim, and then, with a wild laugh that woke every echo in tho dreary aisles, ho leaped from the place. Brandishing his bloody weapon 156 LEILA. above his head, he dashed through the coward crowd; and, cro oven tho startled Dominican had found a voice, the tram]) of his headlong steed rang npon tho air; an instant — and all was silent. Bat over the murdered girl leaned the Moor, as yet incre¬ dulous of her death ; her head, still unshorn of its purple tresses, pillowed on his lap — her icy hand clasped in his, and her blood weltering fast over his armour. None disturbed him; for, habited ns tho knights of Christendom, none sus¬ pected his faith ; and all, even the Dominican, felt a thrill of sympathy at his distress. How he came hither, with what object, — what hope, their thoughts were too much locked in pity to conjecturo. There, voiceless and motionless, bent tho Moor, until one of tho monks approached and felt the pulse, to ascertain if life was, indeed, utterly gone. Tho Moor, at first, waved him haughtily away ; but, when he divined tho monk’s purpose, suffered him in silence to take tho beloved hand. Ho fixed on him his dark and imploring eyes ; and when the father dropped tho hand, and, gently shaking his head, turned away, a deep and agonising groan was all that the audience heard from that heart in which tho last iron, of fate had entered. Passionately he kissed tho brow, tho cheeks, the lips of the hushed and angel face, and roso from tho spot. “What dost thou here? and what knowest thou of yon murderous enemy of God and man ? ” asked tho Dominican, approaching. Muza made no reply, as ho stalked slowly through tho chapel. Tho audience was touched to suddon tears. “ For¬ bear ! ” said they, almost with one accord, to the harsh In¬ quisitor ; “ he hath no voice to answer thee.” And thus, amidst the oppressive grief and sympathy of tho Christian throng, the unknown Paynim reached tho door, mounted his stood, and as he turned once moro and cast a hurried glance upon tho fatal pile, tho bystanders saw tho large tears rolling down his swarthy cheeks. Slowly that coal-black charger wound down the hillock, crossed the quiet and lovely garden, and vanished amidst the forest. And never was known, to Moor or Christian, tho future fate of the hero of Granada. Whether he reached in safety the shores of his ancestral Africa, and carved out new fortunes and a new name ; or whether death, by disease or strife, terminated obscurely his glorious and brief career, mystery — deep and impenetrated, even by the fancies of the LEILA. 157 thousand bards 'who have consecrated his deeds — wraps in everlasting shadow tho destinies of Muza Ben Abil Gazan, from that hour, when tho setting sun threw its parting ray- over his stately form and his ebon barb, disappearing amidst tho breathless shadows of the forest. CHAPTER VI. TIIE RETURN — THE RIOT — THE TREACHERY — AND THE DEATH. It was tho evo of tho fatal day on which Granada was to bo delivered to tho Spaniards, and in that subterranean vault beneath the house of Almamon, before described, three ciders of the Jewish persuasion were met. “ Trusty and well-beloved Ximen,” cried one, a wealthy and usurious merchant, with a twinkling and humid eyo, and a sleek and unctuous aspect, which did not, however, sullice to disguise something fierco and crafty in his low brow and pinched lips — “trusty and well-beloved Ximen,” said this Jew — “ trnly thou hast sorvod us well, in yielding to thy per¬ secuted brethren this secret shelter. Here, indeed, may tho heathen scareh for us in vain. Verily, my veins grow warm aagin ; and thy sorvaut hungcrcth, and hath thirst.” “ Eat, Isaac — eat ; yonder are viands prepared for thee ; cat, and spare not. And thou, Elias — wilt thou not draw near tho board ; tho wine is old and precious, and will revivo thoo.” “ Ashos and hyssop — hyssop and ashes, aro food and drink for me ; ” answered Elias, with passionato bitterness ; “ they have rased my house — they havo burned my granaries — they have molton down my gold. I am a ruined man ! ” “ Nay,” said Ximen, who gazed at him with a malevolent eyo (for so utterly had years and sorrows mixed with gall even tho ono kindlier sympathy ho possessed, that ho could not resist an inward chuckle over tho very afflictions he roliovod, and the very impotenco ho protected) — “ nay, Elias, thou hast wealth yet loft in tho seaport towns, sufficient to buy up half Granada.” “Tho Nazareno will scizo it all!” cried Elias; “ I see it already in his grasp ! ” “ Nay, thinkest thou so ? — and wkcreforo ? ” asked Ximen, startled into sincere, becauso selfish anxiety. “ Mark me ! Under licence of tho truce, I went, last night, 158 LEILA. to the Christian camp : I had an interview with tho Christian king ; and wrhen he heard my name and faith, his very beard curled with ire. ‘ Hound of Belial ! ’ ho roared forth, ‘ has not thy comrade carrion, tho sorcerer Almamen, sufliciontly deceived and insulted the majesty of Spain ? For his sake, ye shall have no quarter. Tarry hero another instant, and thy corpse shall be swinging to the winds ! Go, and count over thy mis gotten wealth : just census shall bo taken of it ; and if thou defraudest our holy impost by one piece of copper, thou shalt sup with Dives ! ’ Such was my mission, and mine answer. I return home to see tho ashes of mine house ! Woo is me ! ” “ And this we owe to Almamen, tho pretended Jew ! ” cried Isaac, from his solitary, but not idle, place at the board. “ I would this knife were at his false throat ! ” growled Elias, clutching his poniard with his long bony fingers. “ No chance of that,” muttered Ximen ; “ ho will return no more to Granada. The vulture and the worm have divided his carcass between them ere this; and (he added inly, with a hideous smile) his house and his gold have fallen into tho hands of old, childless Ximen.” “ This is a strange and fearful vault,” said Isaac, quaffing a large goblet of tho hot wine of tho Vega; “ here might tho Witch of Endor have raised tho dead. Yon door — whither doth it lead ? ” “Through passages none, that I know of, save my master, hath trodden,” answered Ximen. “ I havo hoard that they reach even to the Alhambra. Come, worthy Elias ! thy form trembles with the cold : take this wine.” “Hist!” said Elias, shaking from limb to limb; “our pursuers arc upon us — I hear a step ! ” As he spoke, tho door to which Isaac had pointed, slowly opened, and Almamen entered tho vault. Had, indeed, a new Witch of Endor conjured up tho dead, tho apparition would not more have startled and appalled that goodly trio. Elias, griping his knife, retreated to tho farthest end of the vault. Isaac dropped tho goblet ho was about to drain, and fell upon his knees. Ximen, alone, grow¬ ing, if possible, a shade more ghastly — retained something of self-possession, as ho muttered to himself — “ Ho lives ! and his gold is not mine ! Curse him ! ” Seemingly unconscious of the strange guests his sanctuary shrouded, Almamen stalked on, liko a man walking in his sleep. LEILA. 159 Ximen roused liimself — softly unbarred the door which admitted to the upper apartments, and motioned to his com¬ rades to avail themselves of the opening : but as Isaac, — the first to accept the hint — crept across, Almamen fixed upon him his terrible eye, and, appearing suddenly to awake to consciousness, shouted out, “ Thou miscreant, Ximen ! whom hast thou admitted to the secrets of thy lord ? Close the door — these men must die ! ” “ Mighty master ! ” said Ximen, calmly, “ is thy servant to blame, that lie believed the rumour that declared thy death ? These men are of our holy faith, whom I have snatched from the violence of the sacrilegious and maddened mob. Xo spot but this seemed safe from the popular frenzy.” “Are ye Jews ? ” said Almamen. “Ah, yes! I know ye now — things of the market-place and bazaar ! Oh, ye are Jews, indeed ! Go, go ! Leave me ! ” Waiting no further licence, the three vanished ; but, ere he quitted the vault, Elias turned back his scowling countenance on Almamen, (who had sunk again into an absorbed medita¬ tion,) with a glance of vindictive ire — Almamen was alone. In less than a quarter of an hour Ximen returned, to seek his master; but the place “was again deserted. It was midnight in the streets of Granada — midnight, but not repose. The multitude, roused into one of their paroxysms of wrath and sorrow, by the reflection that the morrow was indeed the day of their subjection to the Christian foe, poured forth through the streets to the number of twenty thousand. It was a wild and stormy night ; those formidable gusts of wind, which sometimes sweep in sudden winter from the snows of the Sierra Nevada, howled through the tossing groves, and along the winding streets. But the tempest seemed to heighten, as if by the sympathy of the elements, the popular storm and whirlwind. Brandishing arms and torches, and gaunt with hunger, the dark forms of the frantic Moors seemed like ghouls, or spectres, rather than mortal men ; as, apparently without an object, save that of venting their own disquietude, or exciting the fears of earth, they swept through the desolate city. In the broad space of the Yivarrambla, the crowd halted ; irresolute in all else, but resolved, at least, that something for Granada should yet be done. They were, for the most, armed in their Moorish fashion ; but they were wholly without leaders : not a noble, a magistrate, an officer, would have dreamed of the hopeless enterprise of violating the truce with LI : I LA. .1 00 Ferdinand. II- was a more popular tumult -the madness of a mol); lad, not Urn lews form ida .bio, lor if was an Knslcni mol), and a mob wit-h sword and slial't, with buckler and mail- flio mob by which Oriental empires liavo been built and over¬ thrown ! There, in the splendid spare that had witnessed tlie games and tournaments of that A rub and A Trie, an chivalry — there, whore, for many a lustrum, kings had reviewed de¬ voted and com piering armies assembled those desperate men ; the loud winds agitating their tossing torches, that struggled against tho moonless night. “Lot us storm the Alhambra!” eried one of tho band: “ let us seize lloabdil, and place him in tho midst o’f us; let us rush against the Christians, buried in their proud repose!” “ Lclilios, helilies! — the Keys and the Crescent I ” snouted the mob. Tho shout died: and, at Ihovorgo of tho space was sud¬ denly heard a once familiar and ever-thrilling voice. Tho Moors, who hoard it, turned round in amu/.o and awe ; and beheld, raised upon tho stone upon which tho criers or heralds had been wont to utter the royal proclamations, ilm form of Almnmen, the santon, whom they lmd deemed already with the dead. “ Moors, and people of Granada!” lie said, in a solemn, but hollow voice," I am with ye still. Your monarch and your heroes have deserted ye, but I am with ye to tho last! Go not to the A lhambra : tho fort is impenetrable — the guard faithful. Nigh! will be wasted, and day bring upon you Ilm Christian army. March to tho gates; pour along tho Vega ; descend at once upon the foe 1 ” He spoke, and drew forth his sabre; it gleamed in tho torch-light tho Moors bowed their heads in fanatic reverence - the santon sprang from the stone, and pas, sod into the centre of tho crowd. Then, once more, arose joyful shoals. The multitude had found a loader worthy of llioir enthusiasm; and in regular order, tlioy formed themselves rapidly, and swept down the narrow streets. Swelled by several scattered groups of desultory marauders (tho radians and refuse of I ho city), t lie infidel numbers were now hut a few furlongs from the great galo, whence they had been wont to issue on the foe. And then, perhaps, had the Moors passed these gates, and reached the Christian encamp¬ ment, lulled, us it was, in security and sleep, that wild army of twenty thousand desperate men might have saved Granada ; LEILA. 1G1 ami Spain might, at this day, possess the only civilised empiro which tlio l'aith of Mahomet ever founded. Ihit the evil star of Boabdil prevailed. The news of the insurrection in the city reached him. Two aged men, from the lower city, arrived at the Alhambra — demanded and ob¬ tained an audience; and tho effect of that interview was instantaneous upon Boabdil. In tho popular frenzy ho saw only a justifiable excuse for the Christian king to break tho conditions of the treaty, rase tho city, and exterminate tho inhabitants. Touched by a gonorous compassion for his sub¬ jects, and actuated no less by a high sense of kingly honour, which led him to preservo a truce solemnly sworn to, he once more mounted his cream-colonred charger, with tho two elders who had sought him by his sido ; and, at tho head of his guard, rode from tho Alhambra. Tho sound of his trumpets, the tramp of his steeds, tho voice of his heralds, simultaneously reached tho multitude ; and, ere they had leisure to decide their course, the king was in tho midst of them. “ What madness is this, 0 my people?” cried Boabdil, spurring into tho midst of tho throng, — “ whither would ye go P “Against tho Christian! — against tho Goth!” shouted a thousand voices. “ Lead us on ! Tho santon is risen from tho dead, and will rido by thy right hand ! ” “ Alas ! ” resumed tho king, “ ye would march against the Christian king! Remember that our hostages are in his power; remember that ho will desire no better excuse to level Granada with tho dust, and put yon and your children to tho sword. Wo havo mado such treaty as never yet was made between foe and foe. Your lives, laws, wealth — all aro saved. Nothing is lost, save tho crown of Boabdil. I am tho only sufferer. So bo it. My evil star brought on you these evil destinies: without me, you may revive, and be once more a nation. Yield to fato to-day, and you may grasp her proudest awards to-morrow. To succumb is not to bo subdued. But, go forth against the Christians, and if ye win one battle, it is but to incur a moro terrible war ; if you lose, it is not honour¬ able capitulation, but certain extermination, to which you rush ! Bo porsuadod, and listen once again to your king.” Tho crowd were moved, were softoned, were half-convinced. They turned, in silence, towards their santon ; and Almamon did not shrink from tho appeal; but stood forth, confronting tho king. M 162 LEILA. “ King of Granada ! ” ho cried aloud, “ behold thy friend — thy prophet ! Lo ! I assure you victory ! ” “ Hold ! ” interrupted Boabdil, “ thou hast deceived and betrayed me too long ! Moors ! know ye this pretended santon ! He is of no Moslem creed. He is a hound of Israel, who would sell you to the best bidder. Slay him ! ” “ Ha ! ” cried Almamen, “ and who is my accuser ? ” “ Thy servant — behold him! ” At these words, the royal guards lifted their torches, and the glare fell, redly, on the death-like features of Ximen. “ Light of the world! there be other Jews that know him,” said the traitor. “ Will ye suffer a Jew to lead ye, 0 race of the prophet? ” cried the king. The crowd stood confused and bewildered : Almamen felt his hour was come ; he remained silent, his arms folded, his brow erect. “ Be there any of the tribes of Moisa amongst the crowd ? ” cried Boabdil, pursuing his advantage ; “ if so, let them approach and testify what they know.” Forth came — not from the crowd, but from amongst Boabdil’s train, a well- known Israelite : “ We disown this man of blood and fraud,” said Elias, bowing to the earth ; “ but he was of our creed.” “ Speak, false santon ! art thou dumb ? ” cried the king. “ A curse light on thee, dull fool ! ” cried Almamen, fiercely. “ What matters who the instrument that would have restored to thee thy throne ? Yes ! I, who have ruled thy councils, who have led thine armies, I am of the race of Joshua and of Samuel — and the Lord of Hosts is the God of Almamen ! ” A shudder ran through that mighty multitude : but the looks, the mien, and tho voice of the man awed them, and not a weapon was raised against him. He might, even then, have passed scathless through the crowd; he might have borne to other climes his burning passions and his torturing woes : but his care for life was past ; ho desired but to curse his dupes, and to die. He paused, looked round, and burst into a laugh of such bitter and haughty scorn, as the tempted of earth may hear, in the halls below, from tho lips of Eblis. “ Yes,” he exclaimed, “ such I am! 1 have been your idol and your lord ; I may be your victim, but, in death, I am your vanquisher. Christian and Moslem alike my foe, I would have trampled upon both. But the Christian, wiser uElLA. 163 than you, gave mo smooth words ; and I would have sold ye to his power : wickeder than yon, he deceived me ; and I would have crushed him, that I might have continued to deceive and rule the puppets that ye call your chiefs. But they for whom I toiled, and laboured, and sinned — for whom I surrendered peace and easo, yea, and a daughter’s person and a daughter’s blood — they have betrayed me to your hands, and the Curse of Old rests with them evermore — Amen ! The disguise is rent : Almamen, the santon, is the son of Issachar the Jew ! ” More might he have said, but the spell was broken. With a ferocious yell, those living waves of the multitude rushed over the stern fanatic ; six cimiters passed through him, and he fell not : at the seventh he was a corpse. Trodden in the clay — then whirled aloft — limb torn from limb, — ere a man could have drawn breath nine times, scarce a vestige of the human form was left to the mangled and bloody clay. One victim sufficed to slake the wrath of the crowd. They gatlierod like wild beasts, whose hunger is appeased, around their monarch, who in vain had endeavoured to stay their summary revenge, and who now, pale and breathless, shrunk from the passions he had excited. He faltered forth a few words of remonstrance and exhortation, turned the head of his steed, and took his way to his palace. The crowd dispersed, but not yet to their homes. The crime of Almamen worked against his whole race. Some rushed to the Jews’ quarter, which they set on fire ; others to the lonely mansion of Almamen. Ximen, on quitting the king, had been before the mob. Not anticipating such an effect of the popular rage, he had hastened to the house, which he now deemed at length his own. He had just reached the treasury of his dead lord — he had just feasted his eyes on the massive ingots and glittering gems ; in the lust of his heart he had just cried aloud, “ And these are mine ! ” when he heard the roar of the mob below the wall, — when he saw the glare of their torches against the casement. It was in vain that he shrieked aloud, “ I am the man that exposed the Jew!” the wild winds scattered his words over a deafened audience. Driven from his chamber by the smoke and flame, afraid to venture forth amongst the crowd, the miser loaded himself with the most precious of the store : he descended the steps, he bent his way to the secret vault, when suddenly the floor, pierced by the flames, crashed under him, and the fire rushed up in a fiercer and m 2 164 LEILA. more rapid volume, as the death-shriek broke through that lurid shroud. Such were the principal events of the last night of the Moorish dynasty in Granada. CHAPTER VII. THE END Day dawned upon Granada : the populace had sought their homes, and a profound qniet wrapped the streets, save where, from tho fires committed in the late tumult, was yet heard the crash of roofs, or the cracklo of the light and fragrant timber employed in thoso pavilions of the summer. The manner in which the mansions of Granada were built, each separated from tho other by extensive gardens, fortunately prevented the flames from extending. But the inhabitants cared so little for tho hazard, that not a single guard remained to watch the result. Now and then, some miserable forms in the Jewish gown might bo seen cowering by the ruins of their house, like tho souls that, according to Plato, watch in char¬ nels over their own mouldering bodies. Day dawned and the beams of the winter sun, smiling away tho clouds of the past night, played cheerily on tho murmuring Avaves of the Xenil and the Darro. Alone, upon a balcony commanding that stately landscape, stood the last of the Moorish kings. He had sought to bring to his aid all the lessons of tho philosophy he had cultivated. “ What are we,” thought the musing prince, “ that Ave should fill tho world with ourselves — we kings! Earth resounds with tho crash of my falling throne : on tho ear of races unborn tho echo aa- ill live prolonged. But Avhat have I lost? — nothing that was necessary to my happiness, my repose; nothing save the source of all my wretchedness, tho Marah of my life! Shall I less enjoy heaven and earth, or thought or action, or man’s more material luxuries of food or sleep — tho common and tho cheap desires of all ? Arouse thee, then, O heart within me ! many and deep emotions of sorrow or of joy aro yet left to break the monotony of existence.” He paused ; and, at the distance, his eye fell upon the lonely minarets of the distant and deserted palace of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. • LEILA. 165 “ Thou wert right, then,” resumed the king — “ thou wert right, ‘brave spirit, not to pity Boabdil : but not because death was in his power ; man’s soul is greater than his fortunes, and there is majesty in a life that towers above the ruins that fall around its path.” He turned away, and his cheek suddenly grew pale ; for ho heard, in tho courts below, the tread of hoofs, the bustle of preparation : it was tho hour for his de¬ parture. His philosophy vanished : ho groaned aloud, and re-entered the chamber, jnst as his vizier and the chief of his guard broko upon his solitude. The old vizier attempted to speak, but his voice failed him. “ It is time, then, to depart,” said Boabdil, with calmness; “ let it be so : render up the palace and the fortress, and join thy friend, no more thy monarch, in his new home.” He stayed not for reply : he hurried on, descended to tho court, flung himself on his barb, and, with a 6mall and sad¬ dened train, passed through tho gate which we yet survey, by a blackened and crumbling tower, overgrown with vines and ivy ; thence, amidst gardens, now appertaining to the convent of the victor faith, he took his mournful and unwitnessed way. When he came to the middle of tho hill that rises above those gardens, the steel of the Spanish armour gleamed upon him, as the detachment sent to occupy tho palace marched over the summit in steady order and profound silence. At the head of this vanguard rode, upon a snow-white palfrey, the Bishop of Avila, followed by a long train of bare¬ footed monks. They halted as Boabdil approached, and the grave bishop sainted him with the air of one who addresses an infidel and an inferior. With the quick sense of dignity common to the great, and yet more to the fallen, Boabdil felt, but resented not, thejpride of the ecclesiastic. “ Go, Christian,” said he, mildly, “ the gates of the Alhambra are open, and Allah has bestowed the palaco and the city upon your king : may his virtues atone the faults of Boabdil ! ” So saying, and waiting no answer, he rode on, without looking to tho right or left. The Spaniards also pursued their way. The sun had fairly risen above the mountains, when Boabdil and his train beheld, from the eminence on which they were, the whole armament of Spain ; and at the same moment, louder than the tramp of horse, or the flash of arms, was heard dis¬ tinctly the solemn chaunt of Te Deum, which preceded the blaze of the unfurled and lofty standards. Boabdil, himself 1G6 LEILA. still silent, heard the groans and exclamations of his train ; he tnmed to cheer or chide them, and then saw, from his own watch-tower, with the sun shining full upon its pure and dazzling surface, the silver cross of Spain. His Alhambra was already in the hands of the foe ; while, beside that badge of the holy war, waved the gay and flaunting flag of St. Iago, the canonised Mars of the chivalry of Spain. At that sight, the king’s voice died within him : he gave the rein to his barb, impatient to close the fatal ceremonial, and did not slacken his speed till almost within bow-shot of the first ranks of the army. Never had Christian war assumed a more splendid and imposing aspect. Far as the eye could reach, extended the glittering and gorgeous lines of that goodly power, bristling with sunlit spears and blazoned banners ; while beside, murmured, and glowed, and danced, the silver and laughing Xenil, careless what lord should possess, for his little day, the banks that bloomed by its everlasting course. By a small mosque, halted the flower of the army. Sur¬ rounded by the arch-priests of that mighty hierarchy, the peers and princes of a court that rivalled the Rolands of Charlemagne, was seen the kingly form of Ferdinand him¬ self, with Isabel at his right hand, and the high-born dames of Spain; relieving, with their gay colours and sparkling gems, the sterner splendour of the crested helmet and polished mail. Within sight of the royal group, Boabdil halted, — composed his aspect so as best to conceal his soul, — and, a little in advance of his scanty train, but never, in mien and majesty, more a king, the son of Abdallah met his haughty conqueror. At the sight of his princely countenance and golden hair, his comely and commanding beauty, made more touching by youth, a thrill of compassionate admiration ran through that assembly of the brave and fair. Ferdinand and Isabel slowly advanced to meet their late rival — their new subject ; and, as Boabdil would have dismounted, the Spanish king placed his hand upon his shoulder. “ Brother and prince,” said he, “ forget thy sorrows ; and may our friendship hereafter con¬ sole thee for reverses, against which thou hast contended as a hero and a king — resisting man, but resigned at length to God ! ” Boabdil did not affect to return this bitter, but unin¬ tentional, mockery of compliment. Ho bowed his head, and remained a moment silent ; then motioning to his train, four of his officers approached, and kneeling beside Ferdinand, LEILA. 10? proffered to him, upon a silver buckler, the keys of the city. “ 0 king ! ” then said Boabdil, “ accept the keys of the last hold which has resisted the arms of Spain ! The empire of the Moslem is no more. Thine are the city and the people of Granada : yielding to thy prowess, they yet confide in thy mercy.” “ They do well,” said the king ; “ our promises shall not be broken. But, since we know the gallantry of Moorish cavaliers, not to us, but to gentler hands, shall the keys of Granada be surrendered.” Thus saying, Ferdinand gave the keys to Isabel, who would have addressed some soothing flatteries to Boabdil : but the emotion and excitement were too much for her compassionate heart, heroine and queen though she was ; and, when she lifted her eyes upon the calm and pale features of the fallen monarch, the tears gushed from them irresistibly, and her voice died in murmurs. A faint flush overspread the features of Boabdil, and there was a momentary pause of embarrass¬ ment, which the Moor was the first to break. “ Fair queen,” said he, with mournful and pathetic dignity, “ thou canst read the heart that thy generous sympathy touches and subdues : this is thy last, nor least, glorious con¬ quest. But I detain ye : let not my aspect cloud your triumph. Suffer me to say farewell.” “ May we not hint at the blessed possibility of conversion ? ” whispered the pious queen, through her tears, to her royal consort. “ Not now — not now, by Saint Iago ! ” returned Ferdinand, quickly, and, in the same tone, willing himself to conclude a painful conference. He then added, aloud, “ Go, my brother, and fair fortune with you ! Forget the past.” Boabdil smiled bitterly, saluted the royal pair with pro¬ found and silent reverence, and rode slowly on, leaving the army below, as he ascended the path that led to his new prin¬ cipality beyond the Alpuxarras. As the trees snatched the Moorish cavalcade from the view of the king, Ferdinand ordered the army to recommence its march ; and trumpet and cymbal presently sent their music to the ear of the Moslems. Boabdil spurred on at full speed, till his panting charger halted at the little village where his mother, his slaves, and his faithful Amine, (sent on before,) awaited him. Joining these, he proceeded without delay upon his melancholy path. They ascended that eminence which is the pass into the 108 LEILA. Alpuxarras. From its height, the vale, the rivers, the spires, the towers of Granada, broke gloriously upon the view of the little band. They halted, mechanically and abruptly : every eye was turned to the beloved scene. The proud shame of baffled warriors, the tender memories of home — of childhood — of fatherland, swelled every heart, and gushed from every eye. Suddenly, the distant boom of artillery broke from the citadel, and rolled along the sunlit valley and crystal river. An universal wail burst from the exiles ! it smote — it over¬ powered the heart of tho ill-starred king, in vain seeking to wrap himself in Eastern prido or stoical philosophy. The tears gushed from his eyes, and ho covered his face with his hands, Then said his haughty mother, gazing at him with hard and disdainful eyes, in that unjust and memorable reproach which history has preserved — “ Ay, weep, like a woman, over what thou conldst not defend like a man ! ” Boabdil raised liis countenance, with indignant majesty, when he felt his hand tenderly clasped, and, turning round, saw Amine by his side. “ Heed her not ! heed her not, Boabdil ! ” said the slave ; “ never didst thou seem to me more noble than in that sorrow. Thou wert a hero for thy throne ; but feel still, 0 light of mine eyes, a woman for thy people ! ” “God is great!” said Boabdil; “and God comforts me still ! Thy lips, which never flattered me in my power, have no reproach for mo in my affliction ! ” He said, and smiled upon Amine — it was her hour of triumph; The band wound slowly on through the solitary defiles : and that placo where the king wept, and the woman soothed, is still called “ El ultimo suspiro del Moro,” Tiie last SIGH OF the Moor. CALDERON, THE COURTIER. «Cv CALDERON, THE COURTIER A TALE. CHATTEL I. THE ANTECHAMBER. The Tragi-Comedy of Court Intrigue, which had ever found its principal theatre in Spain since the accession of the House of Austria to the throne, was represented with singular com¬ plication of incident, and brilliancy of performance, during the reign of Philip the Third. That monarch, weak, indolent, and superstitious, left the reins of government in the hands of the Duke of Lerma. The Duke of Lerma, in his turn, mild, easy, ostentatious, and shamefully corrupt, resigned the authority he had thus received to Roderigo Calderon, an able and reso¬ lute upstart, whom nature and fortune seemed equally to favour and endow. But, not more to his talents, which were great, than to the policy of religious persecution which he had supported and enforced, Roderigo Calderon owed his promo¬ tion. The King and the Inquisition had, some years before our story opens, resolved upon the general expulsion of the Moriscos — the wealthiest, the most active, the most indus¬ trious portion of the population. “ I would sooner,” said the bigoted king — and his words were hallowed by the enthusiasm of the Church — “ depopu¬ late my kingdom than suffer it to harbour a single infidel.” The Duke de Lerma entered into the scheme that lost to Spain many of her most valuable subjects, with the zeal of a pious Catholic, expectant of the cardinal’s hat, which he after¬ wards obtained. But to this scheme, Calderon brought an energy, a decision, — a vehemence, and sagacity of hatred, that savoured more of personal vengeance than religious persecu¬ tion. His perseverance in this good work established him firmly in the king’s favour ; and in this he was supported by 172 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. the friendship not only of Lerma, but of Fray Louis de Aliaga, a renowned Jesuit, and confessor to the Ling. The disasters and distresses occasioned by this barbarous crusade, which crippled the royal revenues, and seriously injured the estates of the principal barons, from whose lands the industrious and intelligent Moriscos were expelled, ultimately concentred a deep and general hatred upon Calderon. But his extra¬ ordinary address and vigorous energies, his perfect mastery of the science of intrigue, not only sustained, but continued to augment, his power. Though the king was yet in the prime of middlo age, his health was infirm and his life precarious. Calderon had contrived, while preserving the favour of the reigning monarch, to establish himself as the friend and com¬ panion of the heir apparent. In this, indeed, he had affected to yield to the policy of the king himself ; for Philip the Third had a wholesome terror of the possible ambition of his son, who early evinced talents which might have been formidable, but for passions which urged him into the most vicious plea¬ sures, and the most extravagant excesses. The craft of the king was satisfied by the device of placing about the person of tho Infant one devoted to himself ; nor did his conscience, pious as he was, revolt at the profligacy which his favourite was said to participate, and, perhaps, to encourage ; sinco the less popular the prince, the more powerful the king. But, all this while, there was formed a powerful cabal against both the Duke of Lerma and Don Roderigo Calderon, in a quarter where it might least have been anticipated. The cardinal-duke, naturally anxious to cement and perpetuate his authority, had placed his son, the Duke d’Uzcda, in a post that gave him constant access to the monarch. The prospect of power mado Uzcda eager to seize at once upon all its ad¬ vantages ; and it became tho object of his life to supplant his father. This would have been easy enough, but for the genius and vigilance of Calderon, whom he hated as a rival, disdained as an upstart, and dreaded as a foe. Philip was soon aware of tho contest between the two factions, but, in the true spirit of Spanish kingcraft, he took care to play one against the other. Nor could Calderon, powerful as he was, dare openly to seek tho ruin of Uzeda ; while Uzeda, more rash, and, j>er- haps, more ingenuous, entered into a thousand plots for the downfall of the prime favourite. The frequent missions, principally into Portugal, in which of late Calderon had been employed, had allowed Uzeda to encroach more and more upon the royal confidence ; while the CALDERON, THE COURTIER, 173 very means which Don Roderigo had adopted to perpetuate his influence, by attaching himself to the prince, necessarily dis¬ tracted his attention from the intrigues of his rival. Perhaps, indeed, the greatness of Calderon’s abilities made him too arrogantly despise the machinations of the duke, who, though not without some capacities as a courtier, was wholly incom¬ petent to those duties of a minister, on which he had set his ambition and his grasp. Such was the state of parties in the Court of Philip the Third, at the time in which we commence our narrative in the antechamber of Don Roderigo Calderon. “ It is not to be endured,” said Don Felix de Castro, an old noble, whose sharp features and diminutive stature proclaimed the purity of his blood and the antiquity of his descent. “ Just three quarters of an hour and five minutes have I waited for audience to a fellow who would once have thought himself honoured if I had ordered him to call my coach ; ” said Don Diego Sarmiento de Mendo. “ Then, if it chafe you so much, gentlemen, why come you here at all. I dare say Don Roderigo can dispense with your attendance.” This was said bluntly by a young noble of good mien, whose impetuous and irritable temperament betrayed itself by an impatience of gesture and motion unusual amongst his countrymen. Sometimes he walked, with nneven strides, to and fro the apartments, unheeding the stately groups whom he jostled, or the reproving looks that he attracted ; some¬ times he paused abruptly, raised his eyes, muttered, twitched his cloak, or played with his sword-knot ; or, turning abruptly round upon his solemn neighbours, as some remark on his strange bearing struck his ear, brought the blood to many a haughty cheek by his stern gaze of defiance and disdain. It was easy to perceive that this personage belonged to the tribe — rash, vain, and young — who are eager to take offence, and to provoke quarrel. Nevertheless, the cavalier had noble and great qualities. A stranger to courts, in the camp he was re¬ nowned for a chivalrous generosity and an extravagant valour, that emulated the ancient heroes of Spanish romaunt and song. His was a dawn that promised a hot noon and a glorious eve. The name of this brave soldier was Martin Fonseca. He was of an ancient but impoverished house, and related, in a remote degree, to the Duke de Lerma. In his earliest youth he had had cause to consider himself the heir to a wealthy uncle on his mother’s side ; and with those expectations, while still but 174 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. a boy, lie had been invited to court by the cardinal-duke. Here, however, the rude and blunt sincerity of his bearing had so greatly shocked the formal hypocrisies of the court, and had more than once so seriously offended the minister, that his powerful kinsman gave up all thought of pushing Fonseca's fortunes at Madrid, and meditated some plausible excuse for banishing him from court. At this time, the rich uncle, hitherto childless, married a second time, and was blessed with an heir. It was no longer necessary to keep terms with Don Martin ; and ho suddenly received an order to join the army on the frontiers. Here his courage soon distinguished him ; but his honest nature still stood in the way of his promotion. Several years elapsed, and his rise had been infinitely slower than that of men not less inferior to him in birth than merit. Some months since, he had repaired to Madrid, to enforce his claims upon the government ; but instead of advancing his suit, he had contrived to effect a serious breach with the cardinal, and been abruptly ordered back to the camp. Once more he appeared at Madrid ; but this time it was not to plead desert, and demand honours. In any country but Spain, nnder the reign of Philip tho Third, Martin Fonseca would have risen early to high fortunes. But, as we have said, his talents were not those of the flatterer or the hypocrite ; and it was a matter of astonishment to tho calculators round him to see Don Martin Fonseca in the ante¬ room of Roderigo Calderon, Count Oliva, Marquis do Siete Iglesias, secretary to the King, and parasite and favourite of the Infant of Spain. “ Why come you here at all ? ” repeated the young soldier. “ Senor,” answered Don Felix de Castro, with great gravity, “ we have business with Don Roderigo. Men of our station must attend to the affairs of tho state, no matter by whom transacted.” “ That is, you must crawl on your knees to ask for pensions and governorships, and transact the affairs of the state by putting your hands into its coffers.” “Senor ! ” growled Don Felix, angrily, as his hand played with his sword-belt. “ Tush ! ” said tho young man, scornfully, turning on his heel. The folding-doors were thrown open, and all conversation ceased at the entrance of Don Roderigo Calderon. This remarkable personage had risen from the situation of CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 175 a confidential scribe to the Duke of Lerma, to the nominal rank of secretary to the King — to the real station of autocrat of Spain. The birth of the favourite of fortune was exceedingly obscure. He had long affected to conceal it ; but when he found curiosity had proceeded into serious investigation of his origin, he had suddenly appeared to make a virtue of necessity ; proclaimed, of his own accord, that his father was a common soldier of Valladolid ; and even invited to Madrid, and lodged in his own palace, his low-born progenitor. This prudent frankness disarmed malevolence on the score of birth. But when tho old soldier died, rumours went abroad that he had confessed, on his deathbed, that he was not in any way related to Calderon ; that he had submitted to an imposture which secured to his old age so respectable and luxurious an asylum ; and that he knew not for what end Calderon had forced upon him tho honours of spurious parentship. This tale, which, ridiculed by most, was yet believed by some, gave rise to darker reports concerning one on whom the eyes of all Spain were fixed. It was supposed that he had some motive, beyond that of shame at their meanness, to conceal his real origin and name. What could bo that motive, if not the dread of dis¬ covery for some black and criminal offence connected with his earlier youth, and for which he feared the prosecution of the law ? They who affected most to watch his exterior, averred that often, in his gayest revels and proudest triumphs, his brow would lower — his countenance change— and it was only by a visible and painful effort that he could restore his mind to its self-possession. His career, which evinced an utter con¬ tempt for the ordinary rules and scruples that curb even ad¬ venturers into a seeming of honesty and virtue, appeared in some way to justify these reports. But, at times, flashes of sudden and brilliant magnanimity broke forth to bewilder the curious, to puzzle tho examiners of human character, and to contrast the general tenor of his ambitious and remorseless ascent to power. His genius was confessed by all, but it was a genius that in no way promoted the interests of his country. It served only to prop, defend, and advance himself — to baffle difficulties — to defeat foes — to convert every accident, every chance, into new stepping-stones in his course. Whatever his birth, it was ovident that he had received every advantage of education ; and scholars extolled his learning and boasted of his patronage. While, moro recently, if the daring and wild excesses of the profligate prince were, on the one hand, popu¬ larly imputed to the guidance of Calderon, and increased the 176 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. hatred generally conceived against him, so, on the other hand, his influence over the future monarch seemed to promise a new lease to his authority, and struck fear into the councils of his foes. In fact, the power of the upstart marquis appeared so firmly rooted, the career before him so splendid, that there were not wanted whisperers, who, in addition to his other crimes, ascribed to Roderigo Calderon the assistance of the black art. But the black art in which that subtle courtier was a proficient, is one that dispenses with necromancy. It was the art of devoting the highest intellect to the most selfish purposes — an art that thrives tolerably well, for a time, in the great world ! He had been for several weeks absent from Madrid on a secret mission ; and to this, his first public levee, on his return, thronged all the rank and chivalry of Spain. The crowd gavo way, as, with haughty air, in the maturity of manhood, the Marquis de Siete Iglesias moved along. He disdained all accessories of dress, to enhance the effect of his singularly striking exterior. His mantle and vest of black cloth, made in the simplest fashion, were unadorned with the jewels that then constituted the ordinary insignia of rank. His hair, bright and glossy as the raven’s plume, curled back from the lofty and commanding brow, which, save by one deep wrinkle between the eyes, was not only as white, but as smooth as marble. His features were aquiline and regular ; and the deep olive of his complexion seemed pale and clear, when con¬ trasted by the rich jet of the moustache and pointed beard. The lightness of his tall and slonder, but muscular form, made him appear younger than he was ; and had it not been for the supercilious and scornful arrogance of air which so seldom characterises gentle birth, Calderon might have mingled with the loftiest magnates of Europe, and seemed to the observer the stateliest of the group. It was one of those rare forms that are made to command the one sox and fascinate the other. But, on a deeper scrutiny, the restlessness of the brilliant eye — the quiver of the upper lip — a certain abruptness of manner and speech, might have shown that greatness had brought sus¬ picion as well as pride. The spectators beheld the huntsman on the height; — the huntsman saw the abyss below, and respired with difficulty the air above. The courtiers one by one approached the marquis, who received them with very unequal courtesy. To the common herd ho was sharp, dry, and bitter ; to the great he was obse¬ quious, yet with a certain grace and manliness of bearing CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 177 that elevated even tho character of servility ; and all the while, as ho bowed low to a Medina or a Guzman, there was a half imperceptible mockery lurking in the corners of his mouth, which seemed to imply that, while his policy cringed, his heart despised. To two or three, whom ho cither per¬ sonally liked, or honestly esteemed, he was familiar, but brief, in his address ; to those whom he had cause to detest or to dread — his foes, his underminers — ho assumed a yet greater frankness, mingled with tho most caressing insinuation of voice and manner. Apart from the herd, with folded arms, and an expression of countenance in which much admiration was blent with somo curiosity and a little contempt, Don Martin Fonseca gazed upon tho favourite. “I have done this man a favour,” thought he: “I have contributed towards his first rise — I am now his suppliant, ’Faith ! I, who have never found sincerity or gratitude in the camp, come to seek those hidden treasures at a court ! Well, we aro strange puppets, we mortals ! ” Don Diego Sarmionto do Mendoza had just received the smiling salutation of Calderon, when the eye of the latter fell upon tho handsome features of Fonseca. The blood mounted to his brow ; ho hastily promised Don Diego all that ho desired, and hurrying back through tho crowd, retired to his private cabinet. The levee was broken up. As Fonseca, who had caught tho glance of the secretary, and who drew no favourable omon from his sudden evanish- ment, slowly turned to depart with the rest, a young man, plainly dressed, touched him on tho shoulder. “ You are Sefior Don Martin Fonseca ? ” “ The same.” “ Follow me, if it please you, sefior, to my master, Don Roderigo Calderon.” Fonseca’s face brightened ; he obeyed tho summons ; and in another moment he was in the cabinet of the Sojanus of Spain. N 178 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. CHAPTER II. THE LOVER AND THE CONFIDANT. Caldebon received the young soldier at the door of his chamber with marked and almost affectionate respect. “ Don Martin/’ said he, and there seemed a touch of true feeling in the tremor of his rich sweet voice, “ I owe you the greatest debt one man can incur to another — it was your hand that set before my feet their first stepping-stone to power. I date my fortunes from the hour in which I was placed in your father’s house as your preceptor. When the cardinal duke invited you to Madrid, I was your companion ; and when, afterwards, you joined the army, and required no longer the services of the peaceful scholar, you demanded of your illustrious kinsmen the single favour — to provide for Calderon. I had already been fortunate enough to win the countenance of the duke, and from that day my rise was rapid. Since then we have never met. Dare I hope that it is now in the power of Calderon to prove himself not un¬ grateful ? ” “ Yes,” said Fonseca, eagerly ; “ it is in your power to save me from the most absolute wretchedness that can befall me. It is in your power, at least, I think so, to render me the happiest of men ! ” “Be seated, I pray you, sefior. And how? I am your servant.” “ Thou knowest,” said Fonseca, “that, though the kinsman, I am not the favourite, of the Duke of Lerma ? ” “ Nay, nay,” interrupted Calderon, softly, and with a bland smile ; “ you misunderstand my illustrious patron : he loves yon, but not your indiscretions.” “ Yes, honesty is very indiscreet ! I cannot stoop to the life of the antechamber ; I cannot, like the Duke of Lerma, detest my nearest relative, if his shadow cross the line of my interests. I am of the race of Pelayo, not Oppas ; and my profession, rather that of an ancient Persian than a modem Spaniard, is to manage the steed, to wield the sword, and to speak the truth.” There was an earnestness and gallantry in the young man’s aspect, manner, and voice, as he thus spoke, which afforded the strongest contrast to the inscrutable brow and artificial softness of Calderon ; and which, indeed, for the moment, CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 179 occasioned that crafty and profound adventurer an involuntary feeling of self-liumiliation. “ But,” continued Fonseca, “ let this pass : I come to my story and my request. Do you, or do you not know, that I have been for some time attached to Beatriz Coello ? ” “ Beatriz,” repeated Calderon, abstractedly, with an altered countenance, “it is a sweet name — it was my mother’s ! ” “ Your mother’s ! I thought to have heard her name was Mary Sandalen ? ” “ True — Mary Beatriz Sandalen,” replied Calderon, indif¬ ferently. “ But, proceed. I heard, after your last visit to Madrid, when, owing to my own absence in Portugal, 1 was not fortunate enough to see you, that you had offended the duke by desiring an alliance unsuitable to your birth. Who, then, is this Beatriz Coello ? ” “An orphan of humble origin and calling. In infancy she was left to the care of a woman who, I believe, had been her nurse ; they were settled in Seville, and the old gouvernante’s labours in embroidery maintained them both till Beatriz was fourteen. At that time the poor woman was disabled, by a stroke of palsy, from continuing her labours ; and Beatriz, good child, yearning to repay the obligations she had received, in her turn sought to maintain her protectress. She possessed the gift of a voice wonderful for its sweetness. This gift came to the knowledge of the superintendent of the theatre at Seville : he made her the most advantageous proposals to enter upon the stage. Beatriz, innocent child, was unaware of the perils of that profession : she accepted, eagerly, the means that would give comfort to the declining life of her only friend — she became an actress. At that time we were quartered in Seville, to keep guard on the suspected Moriscos.” “ Ah, the hated infidels ! ” muttered Calderon, fiercely, through his teeth. “ I saw Beatriz, and loved her at first sight. I do not say,” added Fonseca, with a blush, ‘ ‘ that my suit, at the outset, was that which alone was worthy of her ; but her virtue soon won my esteem, as well as love. I left Seville to seek my father, and obtain his consent to a marriage with Beatriz. You know a hidalgo’s prejudices — they are insuperable. Mean¬ while, the fame of the beauty and voice of the young actress reached Madrid, and hither she was removed from Seville, by royal command. To Madrid, then, I hastened, on the pretence of demanding promotion. You, as you have stated, were absent in Portugal, on some state mission. I sought the N 2 iso CALDERON, THE COURTIER. Duke de Lerma. I implored him to give me some post, any¬ where — I recked not beneath what sky, in the vast empire of Spain — in which, removed from the prejudices of birth and of class, and provided with other means, less precarious than those that depend on the sword, 1 might make Beatriz my wife. The polished duke was more inexorable than the stern hidalgo. I flew to Beatriz ; I told her I had nothing but my heart and right hand to offer. She wept, aud she refused me.” “ Because you were not rich ? ” “ Shame on you, no ! but because she would not consent to mar my fortunes, and banish me from my native land. The next day I received a peremptory order to rejoin the army, and with that order came a brevet of promotion. Lover though 1 1)0. I am a Spaniard : to have disobeyed the order would have been dishonour. Hope dawned upon me — I might rise, I might become rich. We exchanged our vows of fidelity. I returned to the camp. We corresponded. At last her letters alarmed me. Through all her reserve, I saw that she was revolted by her profession, and terrified at the persecutions to which it exposed her: the old woman, her 6ole guide and companion, was dying : she was dejected and unhappy : she despaired of our union : she expressed a desire for the refuge of tho cloister. At last came this letter, bidding me farewell for ever. Her relation was dead ; and, with the little money she had amass eel she had bought her entrance into the convent of St. Mary of the White Sword. Imagine my despair! I obtained leave of absence — I flew to Madrid. Beatriz is already immured in that dreary asylum ; she has entered on her noviciate.” “ Is that the letter yon refer to ? ” said Calderon, extending his hand. Fonseca gave him the letter. Hard and cold as Calderon’s character had grown, there was something in the tone of this letter — its pure and noble sentiments, its innocence, its affection — that touched some mystic chord in his heart. He sighed ns he laid it down. “Yon are, like all of ns. Don Martin,” said he, with a bitter smile, “the dupe of a woman's faith. But you must purchase experience for yourself, and if. indeed, you ask my services to procure you present bliss and future disappointment, those services are yours. It will not, I think, be difficult to interest the queen in your favour: leave me this letter, it is one to touch the heart of a woman. If we succeed with tho queen, CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 181 who is the patroness of the convent, we may be sure to obtain an order from court for the liberation of the novice : the next step is one more arduous. It is not enough to restore Beatriz to freedom — wo must reconcile your family to the marriage. This cannot be done while she is not noble ; but letters patent (here Calderon smiled) could ennoble a mushroom itself— your humble servant is an examplo. Such letters may bo bought or begged ; I will undertake to procure them. Your father, too, may find a dowry accompanying the title, in the shape of a high and honourable post for yourself. Yon deserve much ; you aro beloved in the army ; yon have won a high name in the world. I take shame on myself that your fortunes have been overlooked. ‘ Out of sight out of mind ; ’ alas ! it is a true proverb. I confess that, when I beheld you in the anteroom, I blushed for my past forgetfulness. No matter — I will repair my fault. Men say that my patronage is misapplied — I will prove the contrary by your promotion.” “ Generous Calderon ! ” said Fonseca, falteringly ; “I ever hated the judgments of the vulgar. They calumniate yon ; it is from envy.” “No,” said Calderon, coldly; I am bad enough, but I am still human. Besides, gratitude is my policy. 1 have always found that it is a good way to get on in the world, to serve those who serve us.” “ But the duke ? ” “ Fear not ; I have an oil that will smooth all the billows on that surface. As for the letter, I say, leavo it with me ; I will show it to the queen. Let me see you again to-morrow.” CHAPTER III. A RIVAL. Calderon’s eyes were fixod musingly on the door which closed on Fonseca’s martial and noble form. •• Great contrasts among men ! ” said he, half aloud. “ All the classes into which naturalists ever divided the animal world contain not the variety that exists between man and man. And yet, wo all agree in one object of our being — all prey on each other ! Glory, which is but the thii’st of blood, makes yon soldier the tiger of his kind ; other passions havo made me the serpent : both fierce, relentless, unscrupulous — oth ! hero and courtier, valour and craft ! Hem ! I will 182 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. serve this young man — lie has served me. When all other affection was torn from mo, ho, then a boy, smiled on me and bade mo love him. Why has he been so long forgotten ? He is not of the raco that I abhor ; no Moorish blood flows in his veins ; neither is he of t\io great and powerful, whom I dread ; nor of the crouching and the servile, whom I despise : he is ono whom I can aid without a blush.” While Calderon thus soliloquised, the arras was lifted aside, and a cavalier, on whose cheek was the first down of man¬ hood, entered the apartment. “ So, Roderigo, alone ! welcome back to Madrid. Nay, seat thyself, man — seat thyself.” Calderon bowed with the deepest reverence ; and, placing a large fauteuil before the stranger, seated himself on a stool, at a little distance. The new-comer was of sallow complexion ; his gorgeous dress sparkled with prodigal jewels. Boy as ho was, there was yet a caroless loftiness, a haughty ease, in tho gesture — the bond of the neck, tho wave of the hand, which, coupled with tho almost servile homage of tho arrogant; favourite, would havo convinced the most superficial observer that he was born of tho highest rank. A second glance would have betrayed, in the full Austrian lip — the high, but narrow fore¬ head — tho dark, voluptuous, but crafty and sinister eye, tho fcatui’es of the descendant of Charles V. It was the Infant of Spain that stood in tho chamber of his ambitions minion. “ This is convenient, this private entrance into thy pene¬ tralia, Roderigo. It shelters mo from tho prying eyes of Uzeda, who ever seeks to cozen t ho sire by spying on the son. We will pay him off ono of these days, lie loves you no less than ho does his prince.” “I bear no malice to him for that, your highness. Ho covets the smiles of the rising sun, and rails at tho humble object which, he thinks, obstructs the beam." “ He might be easy on that score : I hate tho man, and his cold formalities. He is ever fancying that wo princes are intent on the affairs of state, and forgets that we are mortal, and that youth is the age for the bower, not tho council. My precious Calderon, life would bo dull without thee : how I rejoice at thy return, thou best inventor of pleasure that satiety ever prayed for ! Nay, blush not : some men despise thee for thy talents : I do thee homage. By my great grand- sire’s beard, it will be a merry time at court when I am monarch, and thou minister ! ” 183 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. Calderon looked earnestly at the prince, but his scrutiny did not servo to dispel a certain suspicion of the royal sincerity that over and anon came across the favourite's most sanguine dreams. With all Philip’s gaiety, there was something restrained and latent in his ambiguous smile, and his calm, deep, brilliant eyo. Calderon, immeasurably above his lord in genius, was scarcely, perhaps, tho equal of that beardless boy in hypocrisy and craft, in selfish coldness, in matured depravity. “Well,” resumed the prince, “I pay you not these com¬ pliments without an object. I have need of you — great need ; never did I so require your services as at this moment ; never -was there so great demand on your invention, your courage, your skill. Know, Calderon, I love ! ” “My prince,” said the marquis, smiling, “it is certainly not first love. How often has your highness - ” “No,” interrupted the prince, hastily — “no, I never loved till now. We never can love what we can easily win ; but this, Calderon, this heart would be a conquest. Listen. 1 was at the convent chapel of St. Mary of the White Sword yesterday with tho queen. Thou knowest that the abbess once was a lady of the chamber, and the queen loves her. Both of us were moved and astonished by the voice of one of the choir — it was that of a novice. After the ceremony, the queen made inquiries touching this new Santa Cecilia ; and who dost thou think she is ? No ; thou wilt never guess ! — tho onco colebrated singer — tho beautiful, the inimitable Beatriz Coello ! Ah ! you may well look surprised ; when actresses turn nuns, it is well-nigh time for Calderon and Philip to turn monks. Now, you must know, Roderigo, that I, unworthy though I be, am the cause of this conversion. There is a certain Martin Fonseca, a kinsman of Lerma’s — thou knowest him well. I learned, some time since, from the duke, that this young Orlando was most madly enamoured of a low-born girl — nay, desired to wed her. The duke’s story moved my curiosity. I found that it was the young Beatriz Coello, whom I had already admired on the stage. Ah, Calderon, she blazed and set during thy dull mission to Lisbon ! X sought an opportunity to visit her. I was astonished at her beauty, that seemed more dazzling in the chamber than on the stage. I pressed my suit — -in vain. Calderon, hear you that ? — in vain ! Why wert thou not by ? Thy arts never fail, my friend ! She was living with an old relation, or gonvernante. The old relation died 184 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. suddenly — I took advantage of her loneliness — I entered her house at night. By St. Jago, her virtue baffled and defeated me. The next morning she was gone ; nor could my re¬ searches discover her, until, at the convent of St. Mary, I recognised the lost actress in the young novice. She has lied to the convent to be true to Fonseca; she must fly from the convent to bless the prince ! This is my tale : I want thy aid.” “ Prince,” said Calderon, gravely, “thou knowest the laws of Spain — the rigour of the Church. I dare not - ” “ Pshaw ! No scruples — my rank will bear thee harmless. Nay, look not so demure ; why, even thou, I see, hast thy Armida. This billet in a female hand — Heaven and earth ! Calderon ! What name is this P Beatriz Coello ! Darest thou have crossed my path ? Speak, sir ! — speak ! ” “ Your highness,” said Calderon, with a mixture of respect and dignity in his manner — “ your highness, hear me. My first benefactor, my beloved pupil, my earliest patron, was the same Don Martin Fonseca who seeks this girl with an honest love. This morning he has visited me, to implore my inter¬ cession on his behalf. Oh, prince ! turn not away : thou knowest not half his merit. Thou knowest not the value of such subjects — men of the old iron race of Spain. Thou hast a noble and royal heart ; be not the rival to the defender of thy crown. Bless this brave soldier — spare this poor orphan — and one generous act of self-denial shall give thee absolution for a thousand pleasures.” “ This from Itoderigo Calderon ! ” said the prince, with a bitter sneer. “ Man, know thy station, and thy profession. When I want homilies, I seek my confessor ; when I have resolved on a vice, I come to thee. A truco with this bombast. For Fonseca, he shall bo consoled ; and when he shall learn who is his rival, he is a traitor if he remain discontented with his lot. Thou shalt aid me, Calderon ! ” “ Your highness will pardon me — no ! ” “Do I hear right ? No! — Art thou not my minion — my instrument? Can I not destroy as I have helped to raise thee ? Thy fortunes have turned thy brain. The king already suspects and dislikes thee ; thy foe, Uzeda, has his ear. The people execrate thee. If I abandon thee, thou art lost. Look to it! ” Calderon remained mute and ei’ect, with his arms folded on his breast, r. id his cheek flushed with suppressed passions. Philip gazed at him earnestly, and then, muttering to him¬ self, approached the favourito with an altered air. 185 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. “ Come, Calderon — I have been hasty — yon maddened me; I meant not to wound yon. Thou art honest, and I think thou lovest me ; and I will own, that in ordinary circum¬ stances thy advice would be good, and thy scruples laudable. 13 nt I tell thee, that I adore this girl ; that I have set all my hopes upon her ; that, at whatever cost, whatever risk, she must be mine. Wilt tliou desert me? Wilt thou, on whose faith I have ever leaned so trustingly, forsake thy friend and thy prince for this brawling soldier ? No; I wrong thee.” “ Oh ! ” said Calderon, with much semblance of emotion, “ I would lay down my life in your service, and I have often surrendered my conscience to your lightest will. But this would be so base a perfidy in me ! He has confided his life of life to my hands. How canst even thou count on my faith, if thou knowest me false to another ? ” “ False ! art thou not false to me ? Have I not confided to thee, and dost thou not desert me — nay, perhaps, betray ? How wouldst thou serve this Fonseca ? How liberate the novice ? ” “ By an order of the court. Your royal mother - ” “ Enough ! ” said the prince, fiercely; “ do so. Thou slialt have leisure for repentance.” As he spoke, Philip strode to the door. Calderon, alarmed and anxious, sought to detain him ; but the prince broke dis¬ dainfully away, and Calderon was again alone. CHAPTER IY. C1VII, AMBITION, AND ECCLESIASTICAL. Scarcely had the prince vanished, before the door that led from the anteroom was opened, and an old man, in the ecclesiastical garb, entered the secretary’s cabinet. “ Do I intrude, my son ? ” said the churchman. “ No, father, no ; I never more desired your presence — your counsel. It is not often that I stand halting and irreso¬ lute between the two magnets of interest and conscience : this is one of those rare dilemmas.” Here Calderon rapidly narrated the substance of his con¬ versation with Fonseca, and of the subsequent communication with the prince. “ You see,” he said, in conclusion, “ how critical is my 186 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. position. On one side, my obligations to Fonseca, my promise to a benefactor, a friend, to the boy I assisted to rear. Nor is that all : the prince asks me to connive at tlio abstraction of a novice from a consecrated house. What peril — what hazard ! On the other side, if I refuse, the displeasure, the vengeance of the prince, for whose favour I have already half forfeited that of the king ; and who, were he once to frown upon me, would encourage all my enemies — in other phrase, the whole court — in one united attempt at my ruin.” “It is a stern trial,” said the monk, gravely; “and one that may well excite your fear.” “ Fear, Aliaga ! — ha ! ha ! — fear ! ” said Calderon, laughing scornfully. “ Did true ambition ever know fear ? Have we not the old Castilian proverb, that tells us, ‘ He who has climbed the first step to power, has left terror a thousand leagues behind?’ No, it is not fear that renders mo irreso¬ lute ; it is wisdom, and some touch, some remnant, of human nature — philosophers would call it virtue ; you priests, religion.” “ Son,” said the priest, “ when, as one of that sublime calling, which enables us to place our unshodden feet upon the necks of kings, I felt that I had the power to serve and to exalt you; when, as confessor to Philip, I backed the patronage of Lerma, recommended yon to the royal notice, and brought you into the sunshine of the royal favour — it was because I had read in your heart and brain those qualities of which the spiritual masters of the world over seek to avail their cause. I knew thee brave, crafty, aspiring, unscrupulous. I knew that thou wouldest not shrink at the means that could secure to thee a noble end. Yea, when, years ago, in the valley of the Xenil, I saw thee bathe thy hands in the blood of thy foe, and heard thy laugh of exulting scorn ; — when I, alone master of thy secret, beheld thee afterwards flying from thy home, stained with a second murder, but still calm, stern, and lord of thine own reason, my knowledge of mankind told me, ‘ Of such men are high converts and mighty instruments made ! ’ ” The priest paused; for Calderon heard him not. His cheek was livid, his eyes closed, his chest heaved wildly. “ Horrible remembrance ! ” he muttered ; fatal love — dread revenge ! Inez — Inez, what hast thou to answer for ! ” “ Be soothed, my son ; I meant not to tear the bandage from thy wounds.” “Who speaks?” cried Calderon, starting. “Ha, priest! CALDERON, TILE COUKTIKK. 1S7 priest! I thought 1 hoard the Dead. Talk on, talk on : talk of tlio world tho Inquisition — thy plots — tho tortuvo — tho rack ! Talk of aught that will load mo back from the past.” “No; hit 1110 for a moment load thoo thither, in order to portray tho future that, awaits thoo. When, at night, I found thee the blood-stained fugitive cowering beneath the shadow of tho forest, dost thou remember that f laid my hand upon thine arm, and said to tho*.', ‘ Thy life is in my power?’ From that hour, thy disdain of my threats, of myself, of thine own life all made mo view thee as one born to advance our immortal cause. 1 led thoo to safety far away; I won thy friendship and thy confidence. Thou bocamest one of ns — one of the great Order of Jesus. Subsequently, 1 placed thoo as the tutor to young Fonseca, then heir to groat fortunes. The second marriage of his uncle, and tho heir that by that marriage interposed between him and the honour of his house, rendered the probable alliance of the yout h profitless to ns. Hut. thou hadst procured his friendship. Ho presented thee to tho Duke of Henna. 1 was just then appointed confessor to tho king ; I found that years had ripened thy genius, and memory had blunted in thee all the affections of the fiesli. Above all, hating, as thou didst, the very name of the Moor, thou wort the man of men to aid in our great design of ex¬ pelling the accursed race from the land of Spain. Enough — • 1 served thee, and thou didst repay us. Thou hast washed out thy crime in the blood of the infidel -thou art safe from defection. In ILodcrigo Calderon, Marquis do Sieto Iglesias, who will suspect the Liodorigo Nunez — the murderous student of Salamanca ? Our device of the false father stifled even curiosity. Thou mayest wako to tho future, nor tremble at one shadow in the past. Tho brightest hopes are before us both ; but to realist' them, wo must continue the same path. Wo must never halt at an obstacle in our way. Wo must hold that to la' no crime which advances our common objects. Mesh upon mesh we must entangle the future monarch in our web: thou, by the nets of pleasure; I, by those of supersti¬ tion. The day that sot's Philip tin Fourth upon the throne, must be a day of jubilee for the Brotherhood and the Inquisi¬ tion. When thou art prime minister, and I grand inquisitor that time must come — we shall have the power to extend the sway of tho sect of Loyola to the ends of the Christian world. The Inquisition itself our tool! Posterity shall regard us as the apost les of intellectual faith. Ami thinkest thou that, for the attainment of these great ends, we can have tho 188 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. tender scruples of common men ? Perish a thousand Fonsecas — ten thousand novices, ere thou lose, by the strength of a hair, thy hold over the senses and soul of the licentious Philip ! At whatever hazard, save thy power ; for with it are bound, as mariners to a plank, the hopes of those who make the mind a sceptre.” “ Thy enthusiasm blinds and misleads thee, Aliaga,” said Calderon, coldly. “ For me, I tell thee now, as I have told thee before, that I care not a rush for thy grand objects. Lot mankind serve itself — I look to myself alono. But fear not my faith ; my interests and my very life are identified with thee and thy fellow-fanatics. If I desert thee, thou art too deep in my secrets not to undo me ; and were I to slay thee, in order to silence thy testimony, I know enough of thy fraternity to know that I should but raise up a multitude of avengers. As for this matter, yon give me wise, if not pious counsel. I will consider well of it. Adieu ! The hour sum¬ mons me to attend the king.” CHAPTER V. THE TRUE FATA MORGANA. In the royal chamber, boforo a tablo covered with papers, sate the King and his secretary. Grave, sullen, and taciturn, there was littlo in the habitual manner of Philip the Third that could betray to the most experienced courtier the out¬ ward symptoms of favour or caprice. Education had fitted him for the cloister, but the necessities of despotism had added acuto cunning to slavish superstition. The business for which Calderon had been summoned was despatched, with a silence broken but by monosyllables from the king, and brief explanations from tho secretary; and Philip, rising, gave the signal for Calderon to retire. It was then that the king, turning a dull, but steadfast eye, upon the marquis, said, with a kind of effort, as if speech wore painful to him, — “ The prince left mo but a minute boforo your entrance — have you seen him since your return ? ” “ Your majesty, yes. lie honoured mo this morning with his presence.” “ On state affairs ? ” CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 189 “ Yonr majesty knows, I trust, that your servant treats of state affairs only with yonr angnst self, or yonr appointed ministers.” “The prince has favonred you, Don Roderigo.” “Tour majesty commanded me to seek that favour.” “ It is true. Happy the monarch whose faithful servant is the confident of the heir to his crown ! ” “ Could the prince harbour one thought displeasing to your majesty, I think I could detect, and quell it at its birth. Ihit your majesty is blessed in a grateful son.” “ I believe it. His love of pleasure decoys him from ambi¬ tion — so it should be. I am not an austere parent. Keep his favour, Don Roderigo ; it pleases me. Hast thou offended him in aught ? ” “ I trust I have not incurred so great a misfortune.” “ He spoke not of thee with his usual praises — I noticed it. I tell thee this, that thou mayest rectify what is wrong. Thou canst not serve me more than by guarding him from all friend¬ ships save with those whose affection to myself I can trust. I have said enough.” “ Such has ever been my object. But I have not the youth of the prince, and men speak ill of me, that, in order to gain his confidence, I share in his pursuits.” “ It matters not what they say of thee. Faithful ministers are rarely eulogised by the populace or the court. Thou knowest my mind : I repeat, lose not the prince’s favour.” Calderon bowed low, and withdrew. As he passed through the apartments of the palace, he crossed a gallery, in which he perceived, stationed by a window, the young prince and his own arch foe, the Duke d'Uzeda. At the same instant, from an opposite door, entered the Cardinal Duke de Derma ; and the same unwelcome conjunction of hostile planets smote the eyes of that intriguing minister. Precisely because Uzeda was the duke’s son, was he the man in the world whom the duke most dreaded and suspected ? Whoever is acquainted with the Spanish comedy will not fail to have remarked the prodigality of intrigue and counter¬ intrigue, upon which its interest is made to depend. In this, the Spanish comedy was the faithful mirror of the Spanish life, especially in the circles of a court. Men lived in a per¬ fect labyrinth of plot and counter-plot. The spirit of finesse, manoeuvre, subtlety, and double-dealing pervaded every family. Not a house that was not divided against itself ! As Lenna turned his eyes from the unwelcome spectacle of 190 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. such sudden familiarity between Uzeda and the heir-apparent — a familiarity which it had been his chief care to guard against — his glance fell on Calderon. He beckoned to him in silence, and retired, unobserved by the two confabulators, through the same door by which he had entered. Calderon took the hint, and followed him. The duke entered a small room, and carefully closed the door. “How is this, Calderon ? ” he asked, but in a timid tone, for the weak old man stood in awe of his favourite. “ Whence this new and most ill-boding league ? ” “ I know not, your eminence ; remember that I am but just returned to Madrid : it amazes me no less than it does jmur eminence.” “ Learn the cause of it, my good Calderon : the prince ever professed to hate Uzeda. Restore him to those feelings : thou art all in all with his highness! If Uzeda once gain his ear, thon art lost.” “Not so,” cried Calderon, proudly. “My service is to the king ; I have a right to his royal protection, for I have a claim on his royal gratitude.” “ Do not deceive thyself,” said the duke, in a wdiisper. “ The king cannot live long : I have it from the best authority, his physician ; nor is this all — a formidable conspiracy against thee exists at court. But for myself and the king’s confessor, Philip would consent to thy ruin. The strong hold thon hast over him is in thy influence with the Infant — an influence which he knows to be exerted on behalf of his own fearful and jealous policy ; that influence gone, neither I nor Aliaga could suffice to protect thee. Enough ! Shut every access to Philip’s heart against Uzeda.” Calderon bowed in silence, and the duke hastened to the royal cabinet. “ What a fool was I to think that I could still wear a con¬ science ! ” muttered Calderon, with a sneering lip ; “ but, Uzeda, I will baffle thee yet.” The next morning, the Marquis de Siete Iglcsias presented himself at the levee of the Prince of Spain. Around the favourite, as his proud stature towered above the rest, flocked the obsequious grandees. The haughty smile was yet on his lip, when the door opened, and the prince entered. The crowd, in parting suddenly, left Calderon im¬ mediately in front of Philip ; who, after gazing on him sternly for a moment, turned away, with marked discourtesy, from the favourite’s profound reverence, and began a low and CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 191 smiling conversation with Gonsalcz de Leon, one of Calderon’s open foes. The crowd exchanged looks of delight and surprise; and each of the nobles, before so wooing in their civilities to the minister, edged cautiously away. His mortification had but begun. Presently Uzcda, hitherto almost a stranger to thoso apartments, appeared ; the prince hastened to him, and, in a few minutes, the duko was seen following the prince into his private chamber. The sun of Calderon’s favour seemed set. So thought the courtiers : not so the haughty favourite. There was even a smile of triumph on his lip — a sanguine flush upon his pale cheek, as he turned unheeding from the throng, and then entering his carriage, regained his home. He had scarcely re-entered his cabinet, ore, faithful to his appointment, Fonseca was announced. “ What tidings, my best of friends P ” exclaimed the soldier. Calderon shook his head mournfully. “ My dear pupil,” said he, in accents of wcll-affected sym¬ pathy, “ there is no hope for thee. Forget this vain dream — return to the army. I can promise thee promotion, rank, honours ; but the hand of Beatriz is beyond my power.” “How?” said Fonseca, turning pale, and sinking into a scat. “ How is this ? Why so sudden a change ? Has the queen - ” “ I have not seen her majesty ; but the king is resolved upon this matter : so are the Inquisition. The church com¬ plains of recent and numerous examples of unholy and im¬ politic relaxation of her dread power. The court dare not interfere. The novice must be left to her own choice.” “ And is there no hope ? ” “ None ! Return to the excitement of thy brave career.” “Never!” cried Fonseca, with great vehemence. “ If, in requital of all my services — of life risked, blood spilt, I can¬ not obtain a boon so easy to accord me, I renounce a service in which even fame has lost its charm. And hark you, Calderon, I tell you that I will not forego this pursuit. So fair, so innocent a victim shall not be condemned to that living tomb. Through the walls of the nunnery, through tho spies of tho Inquisition, love will find out its way ; and in some distant land I will yet unite happiness and honour. I fear not exile ; I fear not reverse ; I no longer fear poverty itself. All lands, where the sound of the trumpet is not un- 192 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. known, can afford career to the soldier, who asks from Heaven no other boon bnt his mistress and his sword.” “ Yon will seek to abstract Beatriz, then ? ” said Calderon, calmly and musingly. “ Yes— it may be your best course, if you take the requisite precautions. But can you see her ; can you concert with her ? ” “ I think so. I trust I have already paved the way to an interview. Yesterday, after I quitted thee, I sought the con¬ vent ; and, as the chapel is one of the public sights of the city, I made my curiosity my excuse. Happily, I recognised in the porter of the convent an old servitor of my father’s ; he had known me from a child — he dislikes his calling — he will consent to accompany our flight, to share our fortunes : he has promised to convey a letter from me to Beatriz, and to transmit to me her answer.” “The stars smile on thee, Don Martin. When thou hast learned more, consult with me again. Notv, I see a way to assist thee.” CHAPTER YI. WEB UPON WEB. The next day, to the discomfiture of the courtiers, Calderon and the Infant of Spain were seen together, publicly, on the parade ; and the secretary made one of the favoured few who attended the prince at the theatre. His favour was greater, his power more dazzling, than ever it had been known before. No cause for the breach and reconciliation being known, some attributed it to caprice, others to the wily design of the astute Calderon for the humiliation of Uzeda, who seemed only to have been admitted to one smile from the rising sun, in order more signally to be re-consigned to the shade. Meanwhile, Fonseca prospered almost beyond his hopes. Young, ardent, sanguine, the poor novice had fled from her quiet home, aud the indulgence of her free thoughts, to the chill solitude of the cloister, little dreaming of the extent of the change. With a heart that overflowed with the warm thoughts of love and youth, the ghostlike shapes that flitted round her ; the icy forms, the rigid ceremonials of that, life, which is but the mimicry of death, appalled and shocked her. That she had preserved against a royal and most perilous, CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 193 because unscrupulous suitor, her fidelity to the absent Fonseca, Avas her sole consolation. Another circumstance had combined -with the loss of her protectress, and the absence of Don Martin, to sadden her heart, and dispose her to the cloister. On the deathbed of the old woman, who had been to her as a mother, she had learned a secret hitherto concealed from her tender youth. Dark and tragic were the influences of the star which had shone upon her birth ; gloomy the heritage of memories associated with her parentage. A letter, of which she now became the guardian and treasurer — a letter, in her mother's hand — woke tears more deep and bitter than she had ever shed for herself. In that letter she read the strength and the fidelity, the sorrow and the gloom, of woman’s love ; and a dreary foreboding told her that the shadow of the mother’s fate was cast over the child’s. Such were the thoughts that had made the cloister welcome, till the desolation of the shelter Avas tried and known. But Avhen, through the agency of the porter, Fonseca’s letter reached her, all other feelings gave way to the burst of natural and passionate emotion. The absent had returned, again wooed, was still faithful. The aAvful vow ay as not spoken — she might yet be his. She answered ; she chided ; she spoke of doubt, of peril, of fear for him, of maiden shame ; but her affection coloured every Avord, and the letter was full of hope. The correspondence continued; the energetic remonstrances of Fonseca, the pure and fervent attachment of the novice, led more and more rapidly and surely to the inevitable result. Beatriz yielded to the prayer of her lover ; she consented to the scheme of escape and flight that he proposed. Late at evening Fonseca sought Calderon. The mareptis Avas in the gardens of his splendid mansion. The moonlight streamed over many a row of orange-trees and pomegranates — many a white and richly sculptured vase, on its marble pedestal — many a fonntain, that scattered its low music round the breathless air. Upon a terrace that commanded a stately view of the spires and palaces of Madrid, stood Calderon, alone ; beside him, one solitary and gigantic aloe cast its deep gloom of shade ; and his motionless attitude, his folded arms, his face partially lifted to the starlit heavens, bespoke the earnestness and concentration of his thoughts. ‘‘ Why does this shudder come over me ? ” said he, half aloud. “ It was thus in that dismal hour which preceded the knowledge of my shame — the deed of a dark revenge — the o 194 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. revolution of my eventful and wondrous life ! Ah ! how happy was I once ! a contented and tranquil student ; a be¬ liever in those eyes that were to me as the stars to the astro¬ loger. But the golden age passed into that of iron. And now,” added Calderon, with a self-mocking sneer, “ comes the era which the poets have not chronicled ; for fraud, and hypocrisy, and v-ice, know no poets ! ” The quick step of Fonseca interrupted the courtier’s reverie. He turned, knit his brow, and sighed heavily, as if nerving himself to some effort ; but his brow was smooth, and his aspect cheerful, ere Fonseca reached his side. “ Give me joy — give me joy, dear Calderon ! she has con¬ sented. Now, then, your promised aid.” “ You can depend upon the fidelity of your friendly porter ? ” “ With my life.” “A master key to the back-door of the chapel has been made ? ” “ See, I have it.” “And Bcatriz can contrive to secrete herself in the confes¬ sional at the hour of the night prayers ? ” “ There is no doubt of her doing so with safety. The number of the novices is so great, that one of them cannot well be missed.” “ So much, then, for your part of the enterprise. Now for mine. You knowT that solitary house in the suburbs, on the high road to Fuencarral, which I pointed out to you yester¬ day ? Well, the owner is a creature of mine. There, horses shall bo in waiting ; there, disguises shall bo prepared. Beatrix must necessarily divest herself of the professional dress ; you had better choose meaner garments for yourself. Drop those hidalgo titles of which your father is so proud, and pass off yourself and the novice as a notary and his wife, about to visit France on a lawsuit of inheritance. One of my secre¬ taries shall provide you with a pass. Meanwhile, to-morrow, I shall be the first officially to hear of the flight of the novice, and I will set the pursuers on a wrong scent. Have I not arranged all things properly, my Fonseca? ” “You are our guardian angel! ” cried Don Martin, fer¬ vently. “ The prayers of Beatrix will be registered in your behalf above — prayers that will reach tho Great Throne as easily from the open valleys of Franco as in tho gloomy cloisters of Madrid. At midnight, to-morrow, then, wo seek the house you have described to us.” CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 195 “Ay, at midnight, all shall be prepared.” With a light step and exulting heart, Fonseca turned from the palace of Calderon. Naturally sanguine and high-spirited, visions of hope and joy floated before his eyes, and the future seemed to him a land owning but the twin deities of Glory and Love. He had reached about the centre of the street in which Calderon’s abode was placed, when six men, who for some moments had been watching him from a little distance, approached. “ I believe,” said the one who appeared the chief of the band, “ that I have the honour to address Senor Don Martin Fonseca ? ” “ Such is my name.” “ In the name of the king we ai’rest you. Follow us.” “ Arrest ! on what plea ? What is my offence ? ” “ It is stated on this writ, signed by his Eminence the Cardinal Duke do Lerma. You are charged with the crime of desertion.” “ Thou liest, knave '. I had the general’s free permission to quit the camp.” “ We have said all— follow ! ’ Fonseca, naturally of the most impetuous and passionate character, was not, in that moment, in a mood to calculate coldly all the consequences of resistance. Arrest — imprison¬ ment — on tho eve before that which was to see him the deliverer of Beatriz, constituted a sentence of such despair, that all other considerations vanished before it. He set his teeth firmly, drew his sword, dashed aside the alguazil who attempted to obstruct his path, and strode grimly on, shaking one clenched hand in defiance, while, with the other, he waved the good Toledo that had often blazed in the van of battle, at the war-cry of “ St. Jago and Spain ! ” The alguazils closed round the soldier, and tho clash of swords was already heard ; when, suddenly, torches, borne on high, threw their glare across the moonlit street, and two running footmen called out, “ Make wray for the most noble the Marquis de Siete Iglesias ! ” At that name, Fonseca dropped the point of his weapon ; the alguazils themselves drew aside ; and the tall figure and pale countenance of Cal¬ deron were visible amongst the group. “What means this brawd, in the open streets, at this late hour? ” said the minister, sternly. “Calderon!” exclaimed Fonseca; “this is, indeed, for- o 2 196 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. tunate. These caitiffs have dai’ed to lay hands on a soldier of Spain, and to forge for their villany the name of his own kins¬ man, the Duke de Lerma.” “ Your charge against this gentleman ? ” asked Calderon, calmly, turning to the principal alguazil, who placed the writ of arrest in the secretary’s hand. Calderon read it leisurely, and raised his hat as he returned it to the alguazil : he then drew aside Fonseca. “ Are you mad ? ” said he, in a whisper. “ Do you think you can resist the law ? Had I not arrived so opportunely, you would have converted a slight accusation into a capital offence. Go with these men : do not fear ; I will see the duke, and obtain your immediate release. To-morrow, I will visit and accompany you home.” Fonseca, still half beside himself with rage, would have re¬ plied, but Calderon significantly placed his finger on his lip, and turned to the alguazils. “ There is a mistake here: it will be rectified to-morrow. Treat this cavalier with all the respect and worship due to his birth and merits. Go, Don Martin, go,” he added, in a lower voice ; “ go, unless you desire to lose Beatriz for ever. No¬ thing but obedience can save you from the imprisonment of half a life ! ” Awed and subdued by this threat, Fonseca, in gloomy silence, placed his sword in its sheath, and sullenly followed the alguazils. Calderon watched them depart with a thought¬ ful and absent look ; then, starting from his reverie, he bade his torch-bearers proceed, and resumed his way to the Prince of Spain. CHAPTER YU. THE OPEN COUNTENANCE, THE CONCEALED THOUGHTS. The next day, at noon, Calderon visited Fonseca in his place of confinement. The young man was seated by a window that overlooked a large dull court-yard, with a neglected and broken fountain in the centre, leaning his cheek upon his hand. His long hair was dishevelled, his dress disordered, and a gloomy frown darkened features naturally open and ingenuous. He started to his feet as Calderon approached. “ My release— you have brought my release — let us forth ! ” “ My dear pupil, be ruled, be calm. I have seen the duke : CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 197 the cause of your imprisonment is as I suspected. Some im- prndent words, overheard, perhaps, but by your valet, have escaped yon ; words intimating yonr resolution not to abandon Beatriz. You know your kinsman, a man of doubts and fears, — of forms, ceremonies, and scruples. From very affec¬ tion for his kindred and yourself, he has contrived your arrest ; all my expostulations have been in vain. I fear your imprisonment may continue, either until you give a solemn promise to renounce all endeavour’ to dissuade Beatriz from the final vows, or until she herself has pronounced them.” Fonseca, as if stupified, stared a moment at Calderon, and then burst into a wild laugh. Calderon continued : “Nevertheless, do not despair. Bo patient; I am ever about the duke ; nay, I have the courage, in your cause, to appeal even to the king himself.” “ And to-night she expects me — to-night she was to be free ! ” “We can convey the intelligence of your mischance to her : the porter will befriend you.” “ Away, false friend, or powerless protector, that you are ! Are your promises of aid come to this ? But I care not ; my case, my wrongs, shall be laid before the king ; I will inquire if it be thus that Philip the Third treats the defenders of his crown? Don lioderigo Calderon, will you place my memo¬ rial in the hands of your royal master ? Do this, and I will thank you.” “No, Fonseca, I will not ruin you; the king wmuld pass your memorial to the Duke de Lerma. Tush ! this is not the way that men of sense deal with misfortune. Think you I should be what I now am, if, in every reverse, I had raved, and not reflected ? Sit down, and let us think of what can now be done.” “ Nothing, unless the prison-door open by sunset ! ” “ Stay, a thought strikes me. The term of your imprison¬ ment ceases when you relinquish the hope of Beatriz. But what if the duke could believe that Beatriz relinquished you ? What, for instance, if she fled from the convent, as you proposed, and we could persuade the duke that it was with another ? ” “ Ah, be silent ! ” “ Nay, what advantages in this scheme — what safety ! If she fly alone, or, as supposed, with another lover, the duke will have no interest in pursuit, in punishment. She is not of that birth that the state will take the trouble, very actively, 198 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. to interfere : slie may reach France in safety ; ay, a thousand times more safely than if she fled with you, a hidalgo and a man of rank, whom the state would have an interest to re¬ claim, and to whom the Inquisition, hating the nobles, would impute the crime of sacrilege. It is an excellent thought ! Your imprisonment may be the salvation of you both: your plan may succeed still better without your intervention ; and, after a few days, the duke, believing that your resentment must necessarily replace your love, will order your release ; you can join Beatriz on the frontier, and escape with her to France.” “ But,” said Fonseca, struck, but not convinced, by the suggestion of Calderon, “ who will take my place with Beatriz ? who penetrate into the gardens ? who bear her from the convent ? ” “ That, for your sake, will I do. Perhaps,” added Calderon, smiling, “a courtier may manage such an intrigue with even more dexterity than a soldier. I will bear her to the house we spoke of ; there I know she can lie hid in safety, till the languid pursuit of uninterested officials shall cease, and thence I can easily find means to transport her, under safe and honourable escort, to any place it may please you to appoint.” “ And think you Beatriz will fly with you, a stranger ? Impossible ! Your plan pleases me not.” Nor does it please me,” said Calderon, coldly ; “ the risks I proposed to run are too imminent to be contemplated com¬ placently : I thank you for releasing me from my offer ; nor should I have made it, Fonseca, but from this fear, — what if to-morrow the duke himself (he is a churchman, remember,) see the novice ? what if he terrify her with threats against your¬ self ? what if he induce the abbess and the church to abridge the noviciate ? what if Beatriz be compelled or awed into taking the veil ? what if you be released even next week, and find her lost to you for over ? ” “ They cannotr— they dare not ! ” “ The duke dares all things for ambition ; your alliance with Beatriz he would hold a disgrace to his house. Think not my warnings are without foundation — I speak from autho¬ rity ; such is the course the Duke de Lerma has resolved upon. Nothing else could have induced me to offer to brave for your sako all the hazard of outraging the law, and braving the terrors of the Inquisition. But let us think of some other plan. Is your escape possible ? I fear not. No ; yon must trust to my chance of persuading the duke into prosecuting the matter no further ; trust to some mightier scheme engross- CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 199 ing all his thoughts ; to a fit of good-humour after his siesta ; or, perhaps, an attack of the gout, or a stroke of apoplexy. Such, after all, arc the chances of human felicity, the pivots on which turns the solemn wheel of human life ! ” Fonseca made no reply for some moments ; he traversed the room with hasty and disordered strides, and at last stopped abruptly. “Calderon, there is no option; I must throw myself on your generosity, your faith, your friendship. I will write to Beatriz ; I will tell her, for my sake, to confide in yon.” As he spoke, Don Martin turned to the table, and wrote a hasty and impassioned note, in which he implored the novice to trust herself to the directions of Don Roderigo Calderon, his best, his only friend ; and, as he placed this letter in the hands of the courtier, he turned aside to conceal his emotions. Calderon himself was deeply moved : his cheek was flushed, and his hand seemed tremulous as it took the letter. “ Remember,” said Fonseca, “ that I trust to you my life of life. As you are true to me, may Heaven be merciful to you ! ” Calderon made no answer, but turned to the door. “ Stay,” said Fonseca ; “ I had forgot this — here is the master key.” “ True ; how dull I was ! And the porter — will he attend to thy proxy ! ” “ Doubt it not. Accost him with the word, ‘ Grenada.’ — • But he expects to share the flight.” “ That can be arranged. To-morrow you will hear of my success. Farewell ! ”- CHAPTER VIII. THE ESCAPE. It was midnight, in the chapel of the convent. The moonlight shone with exceeding lustre through the tall casements, and lit into a ghastly semblance of life the marble images of saint and martyr, that threw their long shadows over the consecrated floor. Nothing could well be conceived more dreary, solemn, and sepulchral, than that holy place : its distained and time-hallowed walls ; the impene¬ trable mass of darkness that gathered into those recesses which the moonlight failed to reach ; its antique and massive 2 DO CALDERON, THE COURTIER. tombs, abovo which reclined tlio sculptured effigies of some departed patroness or abbess, who had exchanged a living grave for the Mansions of the Blest. Bat there — oh, won¬ derful human heart ! — even there, in that spot, the very homily and warning against earthly affections, and mortal hopes — even there, conldst thou beat with as wild, as bright, and as pure a passion as ever heaved tho breast, and shone in the eyes of Beauty, in tho free air that ripples the Gruadiana, or amidst the twilight dance of Castilian maids. A tall figure, wrapped from head to foot in a cloak, passed slowly up the aisle. But light and cautious though tho foot¬ step, it woke a low, hollow, ominous echo, that seemed more than tho step itself to disturb the sanctity of the place. It paused opposite to a confessional, which was but dimly visible through the shadows around it. And then there emerged timidly a female form ; and a soft voice whispered — “ It is thou, Fonseca! ” “Hist ! ” was tho answer ; “ he waits without. Be quick ; speak not — come.” “ Beatrix recoiled in surprise and alarm at tho voice of a stranger ; but tho man, seizing her by tho hand, drew her hastily from the chapel, and hurried her across the garden, through a small postern door, which stood ajar, into an obscure street, bordering the convent walls. Here stood tho expectant porter, with a bundle in his hand, which he opened, and took thence a long cloak, such as the women of middling rank in Madrid wore in the winter season, with the customary mantilla or veil. With these, still without speaking, the stranger hastily shrouded tho form of the novice, and once more hurried her on, till, about a hundred yards from the garden gate, ho came to a carriage, into which he lifted Beatrix, whispered a few words to the porter, seated himself by tho side of tho novice, and tho vehicle drovo rapidly away. It was some moments boforc Beatrix could sufficiently recover from her first agitation and terror, to feel alive to all the strangeness of her situation. — She was alone with a stranger — where was Fonseca ? Sho turned towards her companion. “ Who art thou ? ” she said, “ whither art thou leading mo — and why - ” “ Why is not Don Martin by thy sido ? Pardon me, senora : I have a billet for theo from Fonseca; in a few minutes thou wilt know all.” CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 201 At this time the vehicle came suddenly in the midst of a train of footmen and equipages, that choked up the way. There was a brilliant entertainment at the French embassy, and thither flocked all the rank and chivalry of Madrid. Calderon drew down the blinds and hastily enjoined silence on Bcatriz. It was some minutes before the driver extricated himself from the throng ; and then, as if to make amends for the delay, he put his horses to their full speed, and carefully selected the most obscure and solitary thoroughfares. At length the carriage entered the range of suburbs, which still, at this day, the traveller passes on his road from Madrid to France. The horses stopped before a lonely house that stood a little apart from the road, and which, from the fashion of its architecture, appeared of considerable antiquity. The stranger descended, and knocked twice at the door : it was opened by an old man, whose exaggerated features, bended frame, and long beard, proclaimed him of the race of Israel. After a short and whispered parley, the stranger returned to Beatriz, gravely assisted her from the carriage, and, leading her across the threshold, and up a flight of rude stairs, dimly lighted, entered a chamber richly furnished. The walls were hung with stuffs of gorgeous colouring and elaborate design. Pedestals of the whitest marble, placed at each corner of the room, supported candelabra of silver. The sofas and couches were of the heavy, but sumptuous fashion which then pre¬ vailed in the palaces of France and Spain ; and of which Venice (the true model of the barbaric decorations with which Louis the Fourteenth corrupted the taste of Paris) was probably the original inventor. In an alcove, beneath a silken canopy, was prepared a table, laden with wines, fruits, and viands ; and, altogether, the elegance and luxury that characterised the apartment were in strong and strange con¬ trast with the half-rained exterior of the abode, the gloomy and rude approach to the chamber, and the mean and servile aspect of the Jew, who stood, or rather cowered by the door, as if waiting for further orders. With a wave of the hand, the stranger dismissed the Israelite ; and then, approaching Beatriz, presented to her Fonseca’s letter. As with an enchanting mixture of modesty and eagerness, Beatriz, half averting her face, bent over the well-known characters, Calderon gazed upon her with a scrutinising and curious eye. The courtier was not, in this instance, altogether the villain that from outward appearances the reader may have deemed 202 CALDERON, THE COURTIER. him. His plan was this : he had resolved on compliance with the wishes of the prince— his safety rested on that compliance. But Fonseca was not to he sacrificed without reserve. Pro¬ foundly despising womankind, and firmly persuaded of their constitutional treachery and deceit, Calderon could not believe the actress that angel of light and purity which she seemed to the enamoured Fonseca. He had resolved to subject her to the ordeal of the prince’s addresses. If she fell, should he not save his friend from the dupe of an artful intriguante 1 — should he not deserve the thanks of Don Martin, for the very temptation to which Beatriz was now to be submitted ? If he could convince Fonseca of her falsehood, he should stand acquitted to his friend, while he should have secured his in¬ terest until the prince. But if, on the other hand, Beatriz came spotless through the trial ; if the prince, stung by her obstinate virtue, should menace to sink courtship into violence, Calderon knew that it would not be in the first or second in¬ terview that the novice would have any real danger to appre¬ hend ; and he should have leisure to concert her escape by such means as would completely conceal from the prince his own connivance at her flight. Such was the compromise that Calderon had effected between his conscience and his ambition. But while he gazed upon the novice, though her features were turned from him, and half veiled by the head¬ dress she had assumed, strange feelings, ominous and startling, like those remembrances of the Past which sometimes come in the guise of prophecies of the Future, thronged, indistinct and dim, upon his breast. The unconscious and exquisite grace of her form, its touching youth, an air of innocence dif¬ fused around it, a something helpless, and pleading to man’s protection, in the very slightness of her beautiful but fairy¬ like proportions, seemed to reproach his treachery, and to awaken whatever of pity or human softness remained in his heart. The novice had read the letter ; and turning, in the impulse of surprise and alarm, to Calderon for explanation, for the first time she remarked his features and his aspect; for he had then laid aside his cloak, and the broad Spanish hat with its heavy plume. It was thus that their eyes met, and, as they did so, Beatriz, starting from her seat, uttered a wild cry — “ And thy name is Calderon — Don Roderigo Calderon ? — is it possible ? Hadst thou never another name ? ” she ex¬ claimed ; and, as she spoke, she approached him slowly and fearfully. CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 203 “ Lady, Calderon is my name,” replied the marquis : but his voice faltered. “ But thine — thine — is it, in truth, Beatriz Coello ? ” Beatriz made no reply, but continued to advance, till her very breath came upon his cheek ; she then laid her hand upon his arm, and looked up into his face with a gaze so earnest, so intent, so prolonged, that Calderon, but for a strange and terrible thought — half of wonder, half of suspicion, which had gradually crept into his soul, and now usurped it — might have doubted whether the reason of the poor novice was not unsettled. Slowly Beatriz withdrew her eyes, and they fell upon a large mirror opposite, -which reflected in full light the features of Calderon and herself. It was then — her natural bloom having faded into a paleness scarcely less statue-like than that which characterised the cheek of Calderon himself, and all the sweet play and mobility of feature that belong to first youth being replaced by a rigid and marble stillness of ex¬ pression — -it was then that a remarkable resemblance between these two persons became visible and startling. That resem¬ blance struck alike, and in the same instant, both Beatriz and Calderon ; and both, gazing on the mirror, uttered an invo¬ luntary and simultaneous exclamation. With a trembling and hasty hand the novice searched amidst the folds of her robe, and drew forth a small leathern case, closed with clasps of silver. She touched the spring, and took out a miniature, upon which she cast a rapid and wild glance ; then, lifting her eyes to Calderon, she cried, — “ It must be so — it is, it is my father ! ” and fell motionless at his feet. Calderon did not for some moments heed the condition of the novice : that chamber, the meditated victim, the present time, the coming evil — all were swept away from his soul ; ho was transported back into the past, with the two dread Spirits, Memory and Conscience! His knees knocked together, his aspect was livid, the cold drops stood upon his brow ; he muttered incoherently, and then bent down, and took up the picture. It was the face of a man in the plain garb of a Salamanca student, and in the first flush of youth ; the noble brow, serene and calm, and stamped alike with candonr and courage ; the smooth cheek, rich with the hues of health ; the lips, parting in a happy smile, and eloquent of joy and hope ; it was the face of that wily, grasping, ambitious, unscrupulous man, when life had yet brought no sin ; it was, as if the ghost CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 204 of youth M ere come back to accuse the crimes of manhood ? The miniature fell from his hand — he groaned aloud. Then gazing on the prostrate form of the novice, he said — Poor wretch ! can I believe that thou art indeed of mine own race and blood ; or rather, does not nature, that stamped these lineaments on thy countenance, deceive and mock me ? If she, thy mother, lied, why not nature herself ? ” He raised the novice in his arms, and gazed long and wist¬ fully upon her lifeless, but most lovely features. She moved not — she scarcely seemed to breathe ; yet he fancied he felt her embrace tightening round him — he fancied he heard again the voice that had hailed him “ father ! ” His heart beat aloud, the divine instinct overpowered all things, he pressed a pas¬ sionate kiss upon her forehead, and his tears fell fast and warm upon her cheek. But again the dark remembrance crossed him, and he shuddered, placed the novice hastily on one of the couches, and shouted aloud. The Jew appeared, and was ordered to summon Jacinta. A young woman of the same persuasion, and of harsh and for¬ bidding exterior, entered, and to her care Calderon briefly consigned the yet insensible Beatriz. While Jacinta unlaced the dress, and chafed the temples, of the novice, Calderon seemed buried in gloomy thought. At last he strode slowly away, as if to quit the chamber, when his foot struck against the case of the picture, and his eye rested upon a paper which lay therein, folded and embedded. He took it up, and, lifting aside the hangings, hurried into a small cabinet, lighted by a single lamp. Here, alone and unseen, Calderon read the following letter : — “ TO RODER1GO NUNEZ. “ Will this letter ever meet thine eyes ? I know not ; but it is comfort to write to thee on the bed of death ; and, were it not for that horrible and haunting thought, that thou believest me — me, whose very life was in thy love — faithless and dis¬ honoured, even death itself would be the sweeter, because it comes from the loss of thee. Yes, something tells mo that ihese lines will not be written in vain; that thou wilt read them yet, when this hand is still, and this brain at rest, and that then thou wilt feel that I could not have dared to write to thee if I were not innocent ; that in every word thou wilt recognise the evidence, that is strong as the voice of thou¬ sands, — the simple but solemn evidence of faith and truth. CALDERON, THE COURTIER. 205 What ! when for thee I deserted all — home, and a father’s love, wealth, and the name I had inherited from Moors, who had been monarchs in their day — conldst thon think that I had not made the love of thee the core, and life, and principle of my very being ! And one short year, conld that suffice to shake my faith ? — one year of marriage, but two months of absence? You left me, left that dear home, by the silver Xenil. For love did not suffice to yon ; ambition began to stir within yon, and you called it ‘ love.’ You said, ‘ It grieved you that I was poor ; that you could not restore to me the luxury and wealth I had lost.’ (Alas ! why did you turn so incredulously from my assurance, that in you, and you alone, were centred my ambition and pride ?) Yon declared that the vain readers of the stars had foretold, at your cradle, that you were predestined to lofty honours and dazzling power, and that the prophecy would work out its own fulfilment. You left me to seek, in Madrid, yonr relation, who had risen into the favour of a minister, and from whose love you expected to gain an opening to your career. Do you remember how wo parted, how you kissed away my tears, and how they gushed forth again — how again, and again, you said, * fare¬ well ! ’ and again and again returned, as if we could never part ! And I took my babe, but a few weeks born, from her cradle, and placed her in thy arms, and bade thee see that she had already learned thy smile ; and were these the signs of falsehood ? Oh, how I pined for the sound of thy footstep when thou wort gone ! how all the summer had vanished from the landscape ; and how, turning to thy child, I fancied I a